The Fall
by Emara88
Summary: Disguised in the body of her best friend Harry Potter and fleeing Privet Drive on the back of a thestral, Hermione never expected that she would cross paths with a certain wizard from their past.
1. Chapter One

**Hello everyone. If you're brand new then it's lovely to meet you. To my regular reviewers who have stuck with me through the previous four stories – welcome back! I feel like I haven't written in ages! I hope you enjoy this new offering. It was a little skeleton of a story that kept haunting me for about 2 years and now here we are…**

**Hopefully I can get back into a routine writing schedule. Maybe not as frequent as I have been in the past, but I ****_never_**** abandon a story and I always try my best to follow through as soon as possible after my terrible cliff-hangers. **

**Yes, there will be romance, drama, plenty of angst and slow burn. And for anyone who's read my other pieces you'll know I really like to try and tie my stories as cleverly as I can into canon (I hope!), so don't expect any wild rides into parallel dimensions or anything.**

**On to the new story…. enjoy!**

**The Fall**

**By Emara88**

**Prologue**

**May 6****th****, 1997**

Hermione hummed to herself quietly as she sorted the vials and jars in front of her out into neat, alphabetised sections. The clinking sound of the glass tapping together as she worked was rather relaxing. She would pause every so often to scratch a batch number onto the parchment to her right, logging which potions were under-stocked and which had exceeded their expiration date. It was a peaceful task, and just what Hermione had needed after the day she'd had.

It wasn't that she blamed Ron and Harry for ignoring her. They were both a little caught up in their various emotional dramas. Ron was still sulking over his break up with Lavender and trying to avoid the gossiping blonde as best he could by hiding away in the boy's dormitory or by scheduling extra practices on the Quidditch pitch. Harry on the other hand was busy puzzling over the new information Dumbledore had provided, while also moping over his feelings for Ginny Weasley and secretly hoping her break up with Dean would last this time. Hermione rolled her eyes briefly as she thought about her famous friend. He was clearly pining for Ginny. He was also lucky Ron was the most oblivious wizard on the planet, because Harry was, as usual, terrible at concealing his feelings for his friend's little sister.

And on top of all that, she didn't even want to think about Horcruxes right now. She'd poured over every book in the library that might even mention the subject – even in the restricted section – and had found nothing. It was disheartening to realise her precious library didn't hold the answers to something for once.

Luckily for Hermione, Madame Pomfrey had fortuitously interrupted her morose thoughts that evening as she left the Great Hall after dinner. The matron had asked her for some help with the hospital wing's potions stock take and she'd been only to happy to help out. It certainly wasn't the first time she'd worked alongside the kindly healer in the hospital wing. She always enjoyed helping out, whether it was brewing basic potions, organising the hospital inventory or supervising younger students while Pomfrey dealt with a more serious case. It was good experience. She had learned a lot about healing, and had even been caught wondering whether it was something she'd be interested in later after school.

Her musings were brought to a sudden halt by the sound of the same Madame Pomfrey calling her name. The healer sounded panicked, her tone more urgent than she'd ever heard before, reaching even into the back storeroom where Hermione was working. She dropped her quill and hurried out. There at the side of one of the beds she saw the healer leaning over a pale figure, mirrored on the other side by Professor Snape. They were working at a furious pace. She sidled forwards until she could see who it was. It didn't take long to figure it out; the delicate pointed features and white blond hair gave him away instantly.

It was Draco Malfoy.

Hermione gasped in horror. He was shivering and clammy, and there was a long, deep gash running down over his sternum across his chest. His white shirt and black school robe were soaked with a mixture of water and blood. Even though she normally couldn't stand the sight of the arrogant Slytherin boy, in that moment Hermione felt her heart clench in sympathy and fear for him.

Professor Snape saw her arrive and glowered at her.

"We need three vials of blood replenishing potion," he spat at her and she jumped at the sound of his normally silky voice sounding so frantic. When she turned and started jogging to the storeroom he shouted, "Hurry damnit," and she broke into a full sprint.

Hermione found the item quickly – she had just been doing the inventory after all, so it was possible nobody knew these stores more intimately than her right now – and raced back to Malfoy's bedside. As she handed the vials over, Madame Pomfrey's gaze was drawn to some notes at the bottom of the medical chart levitating beside her.

"Oh for goodness sake…" the older woman groaned, planting her hands on her hips and staring critically down at the blond Slytherin, "He's allergic to Ashwinder eggs."

Professor Snape swore under his breath, uncaring of his younger audience. Hermione's mind quickly ran through the steps of brewing a blood replenishing potion and realised it did indeed contain Ashwinder eggs. Her heart skipped nervously. She listened to the two professors bickering back and forth about alternative potions for a while, while Malfoy quickly grew more and more pale between them.

"Um…Professors…" she cleared her throat anxiously, stepping closer to the bed. She noticed his lips had started turning blue. The matron grabbed the vial of dark ruby potion, letting out a long sigh.

"We're going to have to just administer it and deal with his nervous system's reaction as it happens. If his allergy is in the typical range, then we will need to prepare for possible seizures and numb lock."

Hermione nodded.

"What can I do?"

"Keep applying warming charms for now, and we'll wait and see…"

Madame Pomfrey was all business then as she tilted his head back and poured the contents of first one vial and then another down his throat. She massaged his neck to make sure he swallowed it properly. Hermione watched in relief as his skin slowly went from almost translucent to a much healthier pinkish hue. She kept applying warming charms to his skin with a gentle tap of her wand. After a few minutes she almost let out the breath she'd been holding.

That's when he started shaking.

"Okay, here we go, brace yourselves" the healer warned them firmly, taking charge as she always did when her patient was at risk. It wasn't long before the shaking had turned into convulsions. "Severus, you keep working on his wound, we need that thing sealed up or he'll only keep damaging it. I'm going to work on his nervous system. Miss Granger, I need you to come up here."

Hermione moved up to where Pomfrey was gesturing, right next to Malfoy's left shoulder.

"I'm going to bind his arms and legs, but I need you to hold his head as still as you can so he doesn't injure himself. Can you do that?"

She nodded sharply, moving into position. Malfoy's head was starting to thrash a bit from side to side, his eyes roving wildly under his eyelids. She paused tentatively for a moment as she pocketed her wand, her hands half outstretched. Would he mind her touching him? Would he be angry? Disgusted? But a groan of pain from him made her leap into action, ignoring these doubts. She leaned over the blond boy and grasped his face between her hands, holding him steady. He whimpered, and his skin was damp with sweat. Hermione had to exert quite a lot of pressure to stop him moving.

When a strange gurgling sound escaped him, she looked down at his mouth with a twinge of worry.

"I think he's choking on his tongue," she announced, but the two professors were too busy running through their own spells at a rapid pace, chanting incantations almost in sync.

Remembering something she'd seen at her muggle primary school many years ago, Hermione silently summoned a clean stirring rod from the storage room. There had been a boy in her class who'd once had an epileptic fit and the teacher had done this. She jammed the rod between Malfoy's teeth and he immediately bit down on it. The rasping, choked sounds gradually stopped and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She looked up briefly to check on the others' progress and met Professor Snape's direct black gaze as he stared calculatingly at her. He gave her a quick approving nod and returned to his task. Hermione felt her pulse speed up a bit and flushed with relief that she'd done the right thing. But her attention was quickly drawn back down to the Slytherin boy as he groaned and jerked against her hold on his head.

"Unngh…"

She almost released her grip in shock as his eyes opened and his dazed, foggy gaze roamed wildly across the ceiling. His steely grey eyes were clouded with pain and confusion, but he was conscious.

"Malfoy?" she croaked, not sure what she was supposed to do now that he was awake. Madame Pomfrey was still working furiously away nearby, although his shuddering motions had subsided somewhat, which must be a good sign.

"Talk to him," Professor Snape commanded in between healing chants, "Get him to stop thrashing."

Hermione swallowed and nodded, leaning further over him. Now that he was with them again, she gently removed the stirring rod from his mouth and wiped up some drool with a cloth. Then she held his head steady once more and cleared her throat nervously.

"Malfoy? Can you hear me? Malfoy?" he didn't say anything, but his eyes connected with hers with a wild intensity that shocked her, "You're in the hospital wing. You've been a hurt, but you're doing great…um…"

She wasn't sure what else she was supposed to say. But Malfoy was staring up at her desperately now, as though she were the only anchor tying him to this place. He looked confused and his gaze begged her for something, though she wasn't sure what.

"I need you to hold on for me, okay Malfoy? Everything is going to be alright, I promise. Hold as still as you can and try to take a few deep breaths…"

He moaned a bit and she saw his eyes slide down as if to look down at his body, which was still half cut open from whatever wound had been inflicted.

"No, no, no, look at me," she told him firmly in her absolute bossiest voice. When he still wouldn't respond and kept trying to move, she snapped, "Draco Malfoy, keep your eyes on me at once. You need to breathe. Stop moving."

He seemed to follow her orders then, a bit stunned but obedient.

"That's good. Now I want you to take a deep breath when I do. Ready?"

She breathed in slowly, and watched with relief as Malfoy copied her movements. She held it for a second and then exhaled, please when he matched her precisely.

"Good. Again."

They repeated this pattern a few times until she felt he had calmed down a bit.

"Okay, Malfoy, I'm going to let go now, I want you to lie as still as possible. If you don't, Professor Snape is probably going to give us both a month's worth of detentions for making his job more difficult."

She tried to smile reassuringly at him and he almost choked on what sounded like a mix between a sob and a laugh. Hermione slowly released her hold on his head and sighed happily when he seemed able to keep himself in check. Madame Pomfrey placed a supportive hand on her shoulder.

"You did well," she murmured, and she was amused to see a muscle in Snape's jaw twitch reluctantly, which she could only assume was his way of trying not to praise her efforts himself. Malfoy whimpered a little bit as Pomfrey made him drink a vial of nerve tonic. This time he could swallow it himself. Feeling strangely compassionate towards the boy torn open on the bed in front of her, Hermione stayed by his side for the next couple of hours as the two older professors continued working. She reached out hesitantly when he seemed to be in pain and stroked her hand through his hair. Later Hermione wouldn't remember a word she said to him, but she just muttered soothing nonsense as her fingers glided comfortingly across his scalp. She placed a warm compress on his forehead and monitored his temperature, or even just held his hand sometimes. Anything to help. And the whole time she did this, Malfoy stared up at her gratefully, his steely grey eyes a portrait of conflicted emotions. He didn't say a word, but neither did he look away from her for even a second, drinking in every word and gesture she used to sooth his troubled mind and body.

It seemed like more than two hours later that he finally let sleep overtake his senses. By then his pain was mostly eroded and there was an air of quiet exhaustion among his three healers. They had done it.

Later in her dormitory, Hermione smiled softly to herself and chuckled as she thought of the strangeness of what had happened. She had comforted Draco Malfoy, she had caressed his hair and talked softly to him and he had welcomed it. Even yearned for it. And although he'd probably pretend it never happened the next morning, in that moment his eyes had pleaded her for more. It was almost absurd. But it made her oddly happy to realise that even the infamous Slytherin git wasn't wholly evil.

A month later after the Death Eaters had stormed the castle and killed the Headmaster, Hermione escaped to her dormitory and cried bitter tears of loss. Not for Albus Dumbledore, but for the poor terrified boy who had once let his muggleborn enemy stroke his hair and whisper gentle words of comfort in his ear. That boy was gone. He had made his choice. And he was never coming back.

….

….

….

**Chapter One**

**27****th**** July, 1997**

Hermione fiddled nervously with her wand as the group of wizards and witches split up into pairs and arranged themselves in a line across the front lawn of Number 4 Privet Drive. She let out a shaky breath and looked around at the various members of the Order. It was probably the oddest group of people she'd ever seen. There were identical Harry Potters all around her, accompanied by a rather motley crew of defenders ranging from the hulking figure of Hagrid to the clumsy, petite Nymphadora Tonks.

Hermione looked down at her own strange, masculine body. Harry was a scrawny teenager, and it was truly bizarre feeling herself in his form; he had fairly muscular arms and legs, no doubt from playing Quidditch, but the short scruffy hair and bad eyesight were a bit unsettling.

"Get ready," Moody barked.

She looked up at her companion, Kingsley Shacklebolt, when the command came. The tall, imposing auror nodded and gestured for her to climb onto the back of the thestral in front of them. She tried to ignore the rather grim knowledge that she could see the beast now in all its dark, skeletal glory. Having had a close experience with death wasn't exactly something she relished, though she was still thankful that she wouldn't be riding an invisible creature like last time, before the night at the ministry.

It wasn't long before the seven potters and their guardians lifted off into the air. She sent a worried glance towards the real Harry who rode alongside Hagrid. She hoped he wouldn't do anything foolish and self-sacrificing. He hadn't been happy about this plan, not wanting to put others' lives in danger for his sake. Typical Harry.

The group rose up in the air, and Hermione felt the weight of the eerie silence fall around her as they ascended through the low hanging rain clouds. Her ears were filled with the pounding thrum of her pulse.

For a few moments it seemed as though they would push through directly with no contest. The air was charged with electricity, but otherwise appeared to be devoid of any assailant, cloaked or otherwise. But that hope quickly faded as a flash of lightning illuminated the night sky. A mass of black figures materialised out of the darkness. The crack of thunder that followed was almost drowned out by the sudden cacophony of spells sizzling through the air.

Hermione's senses were clouded by a tangle of colours as curses ricocheted around the clouded atmosphere. Her chest constricted with terror, but she took only a few split seconds to grip her wand more tightly and throw up shields to defend them both against hexes fired their way. Kingsley steered the thestral into a downward arc, dodging a few death eaters and picking up speed. She deflected a few spells as they did, clearing a path for them towards their destination.

"Very good," he yelled in her ear as she narrowly caught a curse hurled their way, "Watch to the left! I'm going to head towards our safety point."

She clenched her thighs tighter on the beast as it swerved in and out of the swarm of death eaters. Hermione was surviving on pure adrenalin. She flicked her wand so fast it was a blur as heat and fire rushed towards them around every wisp of cloud.

It was only when a sharp sting made her right shoulder crumple that Hermione realised she'd been hit by a stray curse. She panted for a moment, gasping for air against the pressure in her sternum. A shiver passed through her body. Then her skin started crawling. With a grunt of shock she felt her bones shift and the hair lengthen from the tugging feeling on her scalp. She looked down at her body in horror to realise she was transforming back into her regular self. Maybe the death eaters had been prepared to search for the real Harry Potter if they were tricked, she thought frantically. Harry's clothes felt baggy and restrictive on her for a few minutes before they responded to the charm she'd set and transfigured themselves back into her own outfit from before.

"Hold on tight, Hermione," Kingsley shouted above the din of noise, "We need to get out of here now!"

There was a welcome reprieve as they ducked under a crowd of death eaters and Order members fighting and found some free space. They were hurtling away from the fighting now at top speed. Hermione drew in a shaky breath, wiping sweat from her forehead.

Then out of nowhere a slender, cloaked figure emerged from the mist to her left, off to one side from where Kingsley was steering them. The auror didn't see the lone death eater's appearance as he kept up their furious pace.

Hermione eyes widened and she clenched her wand, ready to defend them. Her unbound curls were whipping around her face now and she cursed, wishing she still had Harry's shorter locks.

The death eater seemed to lift his own wand in surprise and point it their way. But then something very strange happened. He almost pulled up his broom to slow down as his hand faltered. Although his face was hidden by a mask, she could almost imagine the stunned look of horror on the person's face. And before she even had time to really think about it, she realised something astonishing. He wasn't going to fight them. In fact, he'd stopped completely in mid-air, just watching them silently as they went to pass him. He even lowered his wand.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief.

They were almost in the clear.

Thunder boomed around them as Kingsley veered towards their safe house. Hermione couldn't help herself. She tilted her head backwards to watch the death eater who had let them go. He was just hovering there against the backdrop of the flashing clouds, unmoving and staring silently at them.

She felt her breath leave her in a sigh of relief and dropped her guard.

That was when a second figure appeared. He practically shoved passed the first death eater, yelling at him to get out of the way. Hermione didn't have time to react. The curse hit her in the same arm as before and an arc of blue light sent a wave of agony through her body. She felt her hand spasm and the next thing she knew her wand flew, cracked and broken into the muggy summer storm, releasing a sad shower of sparks as the curse tore through it.

Hermione cried out in dismay as her vision started to blur.

That's when the thestral took the second hit.

She distantly hear it howling as its body was wracked with convulsions. The two humans were launched from its back into the night sky.

"Hermione!"

Kingsley's voice called to her desperately, but it just sounded foggy to her now, as though he were very far away. The blue curse trickled up to her chest where it burrowed beneath her ribs and sent a wave of icy numbness out from her sternum through her entire body.

Hermione whimpered, gasping for breath as the air battered her fragile body. She felt nothing around her, not the solid warmth of the thestral beneath her nor the strength of Kinglsey at her back. She was drifting… her mind and body empty, like a dried leaf captured by an autumn breeze.

The dual sounds of battle and thunder faded around her.

The darkness grew.

And then there was only the feeling of total weightlessness as she began to fall.

…

…

**Yes, I'm still a fan of terrible cliff-hangers. I can't help myself. Let me know what you think so far and what you hope to see in this story! Thank you!**


	2. Chapter Two

**Hello again readers. I figured I should deliver the next chapter as soon as possible to get the story rolling…**

**As I mentioned in the previous chapter, this story is a ghost of an idea formed out of about half a thought. So please be patient. I have a vague idea about what I want to achieve and a rough outline. But sometimes Draco and Hermione just make their own decisions while I'm writing. It's their story after all.**

**As always – JKR is the true mastermind.**

**Chapter Two**

…

Draco's grip on his wand grew tenuous as his body quickly began to tremble. The gust of wind that battered him nearly knocked him sideways off his broomstick as the storm raged on around him.

There was simply no mistaking the witch that had appeared in front of him. The shaking in his fingers worsened as he observed her.

The curly brown hair that flew wildly around her face was all too distinctive.

Hermione Granger had emerged from the clouds only moments ago on the back of a thestral, flying at full speed away from the battle, her face pinched with an air of panic and her eyes wide and frightened.

Draco experienced only a split second of indecision. Then he lowered his wand. He couldn't do it. He couldn't attack her. Her eyes locked onto him as he pulled back and hesitated. She could hardly fail to notice the solitary death eater just sitting there in mid air, refusing to even feign interest in fighting her.

He had hoped that by drifting away somewhat separate to the main group he'd avoid any trouble. But _of course _Granger had to just suddenly fly towards him, forcing him into this dilemma.

The two of them seemed to freeze as they watched each other warily. He with the full knowledge of just who was in front of him, and her with no small amount of anxiety. She couldn't see his face after all.

The relief in her features was almost tangible as the thestral passed by him, and she began to relax her defensive posture when he didn't attack.

This turned out to be a mistake.

Draco wasn't sure who exactly it was, but before he could react another death eater was pushing roughly past him, shoving him to one side and sending his broom spinning away out of his control.

"Get the hell out of my way!" the man growled at the top of his voice, immediately hurling curse after curse towards the escaping thestral. Draco watched in horror as one of the spells blasted Granger hard in the arm and he could hear the sharp crack of something breaking even over the deafening sound of the storm. The next couple of hexes missed but it was with no small amount of alarm that he watched another one land its mark on the back of the thestral. What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion to Draco's eyes.

The death eater jeered with victory and swerved away on his broomstick, already chasing after his next target.

Draco was left staring in terror as Granger was thrown violently from the beast they were riding. He felt numb as he watched the larger man cling to the thestral as it swooped down and away, the skeletal beast writhing in agony. This left Granger alone, suspended unmoving in the sky for a mere moment before gravity did its job.

She started falling. Plummeting so fast his eyes almost lost her.

Draco's heart filled with sudden dread. His eyes darted around frantically, searching for someone, anyone from the Order of the Phoenix, to witness what was happening; to help her. With the thestral losing control and spiralling further and further away with her companion, there seemed to be no hope. Not a single person was here to save her. He followed her progress, willing the stupid girl to take out her wand and do something to help herself. Why wasn't she casting a spell?

He noticed the relaxed, almost boneless shape of her body as it was thrown around like a ragdoll by the storm.

Damnit. She was probably unconscious.

Draco cursed under his breath in as many ways as he could come up with. He gripped the handle of the broom with sweaty palms, his pulse racing.

_This is a really really bad idea, _he reminded himself even as he moved his broom to turn towards where she had fallen.

_Merlin help me…_

With a final prayer muttered up to the heavens, Draco launched into action. He tilted his broom handle downwards, leaning into the wood as it pierced through the storm clouds below. He dropped faster and faster through lightning and battering winds, but he was still too far behind her. He saw the tiny figure below and almost flattened himself against the broom as he urged it to speed up.

He was running out of time. Her fragile body was still too far away and he almost splintered the wooden handle as he gripped it tighter and increased his pace.

Finally, with mere moments to spare, he reached the Gryffindor girl. He stretched his arms out, removing his hands from the broomstick, and grabbed her. There was just enough space between them and the ground to slow their descent gradually so as not to injure her.

But as he managed to successfully stop them from hitting the forested area below, he didn't account for how a sudden armful of Granger would throw him off balance. With a cry of alarm he tumbled forwards from the broom. He tried to wrap his arms closer around her, but suddenly met resistance when Granger lashed out and screamed in terror.

"Nooo-"

Branches whipped across their faces and arms as they tumbled through the dense bushes. The newly conscious Granger, in her confusion, clung tighter to him in a panic even as her legs kicked out against his hold. They hit the ground with a sickening thump and Draco grunted as the air was sucked from his lungs.

The two of them lay there side by side panting and dizzy on the leafy floor of a thicket for several minutes as they recovered their senses.

_What the bloody hell have I done? _he wondered in a slight daze.

Draco eventually turned his head to face the curly haired Gryffindor, casting his gaze over her form to check for any harm done. She seemed to be gulping in air and her whole body was shaking with terror. Her brown eyes were clenched shut, but after a short pause they suddenly opened and she spun quickly to stare at him in horror.

Granger yelled out in shock and scrambled away, clutching the arm that had been injured by that first curse. She crawled backwards, her chest heaving with panicked breaths, until her back pressed up against the trunk of a tree.

"Get away from me…" she yelled, holding her hands out protectively. He frowned as he watched her, wondering why she wasn't pointing her wand or firing off curses.

A slow trickle of blood ran slowly down from her hairline across one pale temple. Draco shuffled closer with a frown of concern.

"Don't come any closer. Or I'll…I'll…" she seemed to struggle with how to finish the threat, and Draco cocked his head to one side in confusion. He knew they had bad history between them, but surely she didn't think he would attack her now after what had just happened.

Then a wave of realisation hit him, and Draco flushed with embarrassment, scolding himself for being a dunderhead. He was still wearing his death eater mask. As far as she knew he was a genuine assailant who meant to do her harm.

Holding his hands out open in a placating gesture initially to reassure her, Draco then slowly reached up with one hand to remove his mask. It fell away from his face, the skull-like metal disguise falling to the ground with a soft thud.

Granger drew in a long, shaky breath.

Her face dropped into a sort of stunned expression.

"Wha…M…Malfoy?"

He licked his lips nervously. At first he didn't reply. What was he supposed to say, after all? _Yes it's me. I still kinda hate you but I saved your life anyway._ _You're welcome. _Every possible option sounded ridiculous in his head. So instead they just watched each other warily in silence. The cracking of thunder and spells still reverberated above them. Granger seemed to be thinking furiously, as he saw her brows furrow until a deep crease formed on her forehead. Eventually he got tired of the bizarre stalemate and cleared his throat.

"Are you hurt?"

His tone was fairly terse and he clenched his jaw unhappily. He dreaded to think how much trouble he would be in when the other death eaters noted his absence. He had already been on his last chance as it was.

Granger stared at him in bewilderment, as if she couldn't quite process his question.

"Uh… my… my arm-" she finally whimpered, and he dropped his gaze to see her cradling the cursed arm close to her chest.

"And your wand…?"

She blanched and went white.

"Broken," she whispered, her tone weak and distressed by the revelation.

Draco closed his eyes and sighed. He wasn't good at healing. She would have done a far better job herself, but as it was he supposed he should at least try and ease her discomfort.

"May I?" he gestured towards her arm and she sucked in another breath, observing him cautiously like a startled deer, he thought. When she didn't answer but just continued to stare at him with suspicion, he huffed impatiently.

"I didn't just pluck you out of the damn sky so that I could murder you in a more private setting, you know," he drawled, "I may be rubbish at healing but anything's better than nothing, right?"

Still eyeing him a bit distrustfully, Granger eased her arm away from her body towards him. She didn't respond to his brusque statement, but her dark brown eyes followed his every movement closely, suspiciously, as he shuffled towards her. Running through all the spells he knew in his head, he finally settled on a generic numbing charm so that at least she wouldn't be in too much pain. He tapped his wand to the pale skin above her elbow and muttered the incantation. Granger's breath caught in her throat as it took effect, and then her stiff posture dropped a little in relief. Draco nodded to himself in satisfaction before sliding backwards a little to regain that short distance between them. He saw her shoulders relax in response.

"It was you up there, wasn't it?" Granger asked in a hoarse whisper once she had tested her arm a bit and dropped it to rest against her stomach. He didn't reply but waited for her to continue instead. Eventually she did, murmuring, "You were the one who didn't attack us. You just… let us go."

He swallowed the nervous lump in his throat and frowned.

"Uh…yeh. I didn't think you'd be there…" he sighed and ran a shaky hand through his hair, trying to find the right words, "I was trying to avoid the fighting altogether, I guess. But it seems I failed pretty badly at that."

"What happened to Kingsley?"

"That guy you were with?" When she nodded he shrugged his shoulders slightly, "I'm not sure. I think he was trying to get back and manoeuvre that thestral somewhere, get it under control."

She frowned, pondering him carefully as if she were weighing her thoughts.

"Malfoy… you just saved my life."

"Yes, I'm aware of that," he snapped a bit, his lip curling into a somewhat reluctant sneer. She fixed him with those impossibly brown eyes of hers and he found he couldn't look away. They were both silent for a painfully long moment.

"Why?"

Draco felt his pulse quicken a bit and he finally tore his gaze away and glanced down from her penetrating stare. His palms were clammy. It was like he could feel his heartbeat echo through every tiny blood vessel in his body.

"I don't know," he muttered sullenly, his hands clenching into white-knuckled fists at his sides.

"You're a death eater," she stated calmly, as though she were merely reading the news on a Sunday morning. His body shuddered viscerally at her words and he stared at her with open hostility.

"Yeh well… you're a prissy little bookworm," he told her angrily, "We all have our crosses to bear."

"That's not a real answer," she scolded him, her lips pursed together in a slight frown of annoyance, "You can't just abandon a fight and endanger your own life to save your enemy – even worse, a _muggleborn _witch you've always hated – without some kind of logical explanation."

"Well I don't have one!" he snapped at her, "I probably should have just let you die. I don't know why I chased after you when you fell. It's just…I wasn't… there was no one else! I waited and nobody was coming to help you. Did you _want_ to be splattered across the treetops, Granger?"

"Of course not!"

"Then stop acting like such an ungrateful pain in the ass!"

"I'm not. I just- argh…"

Granger was scowling at him until suddenly she groaned and winced a bit in irritation, dropping her head to cradle it gently in her hands. Her fingers burrowed into her wild hair as she rubbed at her temples. The blood had dried a bit, but she was still in pain. Draco made a conscious effort to stay still and silent and not ask her if she was all right. It was none of his damn business anyway. The sounds of spell fire continued to roar above, broken intermittently by shrieking sounds of pain or rage. It sounded distant and almost dampened by the storm clouds.

"What am I supposed to do now?" she groaned to herself, her voice muffled behind her knees, which were drawn gingerly up to rest against her chest. Draco's lip twitched into a pained grimace.

"What do I care? That's your problem."

Granger scoffed, looking at him angrily over the tops of her knees.

"You can drop the act now, Malfoy," she hissed at him, "You can't pretend like you don't give a damn after what just happened."

He just snorted and fell quiet, waiting to see what she'd say next. The truth was, he wasn't exactly sure what _he _was supposed to do now either. It seemed that they were both lost.

"What about you?" she pressed, "Are you just going to go back now? Will you be in trouble for disappearing?" then she paused and her eyes widened with concern, "Did anyone see what you did?"

Draco exhaled softly, running a hand through his hair.

"I… don't know. Maybe. I'm not sure. If they did…"

He trailed off and she swallowed visibly.

"Will they punish you?"

"Oh please," he replied sarcastically, his tone infused with bitterness as he stared sulkily at the dirty ground between them, "I'm way passed being punished. One more show of defiance like this and I'm worms meat for sure."

"What do you mean?" she asked him, her expression stricken, almost panicked, "You-Know-Who would really kill you?"

"It's only a matter of time," he told her in a soft, fatalistic voice. He had resigned himself to this truth a long time ago, but was still faintly surprised that he could speak of his own imminent death so calmly. Every day he survived was a miracle quite frankly. He wasn't even that scared anymore. Living with death over one's head for this many months in a row was somewhat numbing to the soul. He was so tired. And finally being free from life at the manor? Well, that was one big plus in favour of death he supposed.

"But why? Your father is…well… fairly important, right? And your aunt too…"

He shook his head glumly, not wanting to meet her eye. He plucked at some grass near his left knee.

"It doesn't matter, Granger. I haven't got it in me and everyone knows it. Every time I fail to do something that I'm supposed to do, or every time I refuse to follow an order… he notices." He paused and stared sullenly at the ground, feeling weak and pathetic and not really knowing why he was spilling his heart out to bloody irritating Granger of all people. "I just…I'm weak. Whenever there's a raid or an attack I can't seem to work up the guts to…" he sighed in frustration. He finally raised his eyes to hers again, noticing the way her brown irises shone almost ethereally by the light of the moon. Her expression was filled with compassion… kindness. It reminded him of something he barely allowed himself to think about these days.

He imagined that night in the hospital wing and her hand softly stroking his hair as she murmured words of comfort to him. Picturing her gentle, warm brown eyes above him was the only thing that had gotten him through the days of recovery afterwards. Although he would deny it violently if asked, even lying to himself most of the time.

"Why don't you just…leave?" she asked him, her voice cracking, and he realised that she seemed to understand what he hadn't been able to say out loud. That he didn't actually want to be a death eater. That he'd _never_ wanted this.

"I can't leave."

"Why not? If you just-"

"No Granger-"

"I'm serious. We can hide you somewhere. The Order can protect you-"

"No they can't," he interrupted crossly, "not when I basically have a bloody locator beacon tattooed onto my arm."

Granger's face whitened as he angrily pushed up his sleeve, revealing the dark mark imprinted there in all its twisted, grotesque glory. She sucked in a horrified breath as she stared at it, seemingly unable to tear her gaze away. They were silent for a long time, watching each other with a degree of stubbornness on both sides. Granger's eyes kept flickering down to the skull on his arm, and her brows were drawn together with that little crease that told him she was trying to unravel some kind of puzzle. It was the look she used to get in class when she was solving a problem or trying to condense her essays to come in under the word limit.

Slowly, as though she were afraid he'd bolt like a frightened pup, she reached her uninjured hand out towards him. He stared into her eyes in terrified anticipation. For a second he imagined that maybe she was going to touch the mark, and he shivered in expectation.

But before she could press her skin to his, a shrill cackling sound rang out from directly above them. The two of them jumped simultaneously. They looked up from under their tree with furtive, frightened eyes. Several death eaters were circling far above them, not deliberately it seemed, but just sweeping the area. One of them was evidently Bellatrix, as her unique laugh once more haunted the night sky. Draco crept backwards, crawling over towards Granger and resting his back against the tree beside her. It's taller branches offered some small amount of protection from those above at least. He leaned in close to speak quietly in her ear.

"They must be looking for something. Survivors maybe. Or victims' bodies they can loot from and then exhibit somewhere."

"What are we going to do?" she whispered to him, her voice trembling. He looked down at his broomstick lying prone on the ground with a frown.

"I could fly up there and distract them while you…"

"While I what?" she retorted, "I don't have a wand! I can't just walk out of here, you know."

Draco glanced up again and saw that she was right. Every time the death eaters circled, they moved lower, scanning the entire area. A flash of lightning lit up the clearing and they both shied away from it. It was only a matter of time before they got close enough to use detection spells.

"Well what do you suggest then?" he asked impatiently.

The death eaters circled closer. They could even make out the shape of their masks, the gentle rippling of their cloaks in the wind.

"You could apparate us away from here."

Draco turned his head sharply to stare at her in disbelief.

"What? Both of us?" he sneered.

"Yes both! You don't belong with them, Malfoy, anymore than I do! You should come _with_ me," she spoke urgently, leaning in closer to him.

"They'll find me…"

"I'll help you."

Granger grabbed onto his forearm, right over his dark mark. Draco almost reared back away from her, his gaze narrowing down to her tiny hand clutching onto his wrist.

"You said you're probably dead anyway if you stick around, right? So why stay and wait to be slaughtered when you could at least have a fighting chance if you escape? We can try and find a way to block your mark or get rid of it somehow. Together. Isn't it at least worth a chance?"

Draco watched her, his thoughts rapidly screeching to a halt. His brain disengaged until it was a stunned and chaotic jumble of conflicting opinions, going over and over her words on a loop.

"If you were with me, your life would be in even more danger. The dark mark…" he warned her, although his heart wasn't really in it. She was right, he realised. He had been a fool for thinking he could just continue on as he had been, accepting his inevitable death. He may as well die fighting for himself instead of for others. And with the brightest witch of his age by his side… well, anything was possible. It was probably a foolish hope, but it was still hope..

"I don't have a wand, Malfoy," she reminded him, still holding onto him and speaking in a panicked whisper, "My life is already in danger if I don't get out of here right now. I need your help too." Draco had turned his body fully to face her as they both cowered together under the spindly tree. Her brown gaze captured him completely.

"_Please_, I can try to help you with your mark, I promise," she murmured desperately, "We can help each other. Please Malfoy."

He could see in her expression the terror for what might happen, the uncertainty before them, even the kindling faith that he would save her once again.

"This is crazy," he told her in a solemn voice, although the corner of his lips twitched up a little in a wry smile as he considered the suddenly very real possibility of fleeing with Hermione Granger of all people.

"Maybe," she agreed with a slightly grim laugh, "But we have to at least try, right?"

Draco observed her silently, pondering what to do. If he stayed and someone questioned his absence from the battle… or worse, if someone had seen him save Granger, then he was doomed. It was certainly a risk to stick around. And if by some miracle he had managed to get away with it all unnoticed… well, it would only come back to bite him again the next time he refused to shed blood. There were only so many times he could get away with so much inaction and obstinacy before he went from being called a coward to being labelled as a traitor.

And with Granger's promise to help him block the magic from his dark mark, the idea of disappearing and hiding from the death eaters was suddenly more appealing. If anyone could figure out how to conceal him it was _her, _right?

_Seriously, though, why couldn't it have been literally anyone else?_

But that was a lie too. He cursed himself for a fool even as he reluctantly admitted it. Because the other more compelling reason to run away sat right in front of him. Her eyes were beseeching him, pleading him to help her. Without a wand she wouldn't make it out of here alive. He had to do something. Draco didn't fully understand why. He had no clue what kind of absurd power had taken over him, making him save the know-it-all mudblood not once but _twice _in one night. He had just been suddenly confronted with the harsh reality that a world without Hermione Granger would truly be a darker place. Even when he had hated every tiny thing about her, she had still somehow consumed his thoughts. And now his feelings were jumbled and confused.

He didn't even like her, for Salazar's sake! She was an annoying, maddening, stuck up, bossy little swot. But for some messed up reason he really just needed her not to die. If she did, he had a bad feeling his fragile grip on this world might just crumble away into nothing.

"What's that down there?"

"Where?"

"Can't you see it? Near those trees!"

Granger's grasp on his arm tightened painfully. The death eaters sounded much closer than before and he didn't even dare look up towards them. They were both breathing rapidly, their panting all too loud under the shelter of the small thicket. The whooshing sound of broomsticks grew steadily louder.

"Bloody hell, I'm going to regret this. Hold on to me. Don't let go," he told her quietly, moving one hand to link with hers as he held his wand in the other. Granger gasped and her brown eyes stared up at him, shining with something that looked like pride and maybe relief.

"Where to?" he asked her. Granger only contemplated the question for a split second before she smiled softly at him and murmured,

"Hogsmeade."

He nodded once briskly, trusting her in that moment more than he'd ever dared to trust anyone before in his entire life. She'd better have a bloody good plan, he thought grimly as he clenched his eyes tight and focused on the destination.

By the time the death eaters landed down in the dark little clearing, all they found were a few fallen, splintered branches and a lone, silver mask lying abandoned in the leafy soil, the skull-like sockets staring sightlessly up into the night sky.

…

…

…

**Thanks for starting this journey with me! Your reviews will inspire me, so please share! :-)**


	3. Chapter Three

**Back again… I know this chapter is coming surprisingly soon. I can't promise I will sustain this frequency, but it's good to start strong, right?**

**Lots more Hermione and Draco to come this chapter.**

**Thank you for all your kind comments welcoming me back too! And a shout out to Trinkisme who made an awesome mood board for this story so far if you check out her Tumblr.**

**As always, JKR is the chief story maker. We are her followers.**

**…**

**…**

**Chapter Three**

When they arrived in Hogsmeade, Hermione immediately stooped over, holding her hands to her stomach and trying to push down the sudden wave of nausea. Side-along apparition was so much more disorienting, she realised. The jerking movement had also sent a bolt of pain up the length of her arm, tearing through the numbing charm. Beside her Malfoy sighed impatiently.

"Pull yourself together, Granger," he snarled. Her eyes darted up to see him looking furtively around them. She saw they were standing shadowed in an alley off to one side of the main street of Hogsmeade. Hermione gripped her arm with a whimper and stood upright. She swayed slightly to her left, but met the firm hand of Malfoy keeping her steady and upright. He had grasped her uninjured arm, and his face held a wary frown.

"You're not going to faint on me, are you?" he asked dryly, his pointed features pulled into that all too familiar sneer.

"Merlin, I hope not," she replied, taking a few deep, calming breaths and cradling her arm to her chest. He watched her carefully for a long moment before shrugging and removing his hand from her shoulder.

"So where are we going?" he asked, his eyes still darting around worriedly as though he thought a whole troop of death eaters would suddenly appear next to them. Hermione shoved down the pain and blinked around her at what she could see of the buildings either side of them. She recognised Honeydukes to their right and nodded to herself.

"That way," she pointed south, down the street in the direction of the entrance to the castle's grounds, "We're going to the Hog's Head."

Malfoy snorted, his eyebrows shooting up high on his forehead.

"What, that grimy old place near the shrieking shack?"

"Yep."

Hermione nodded once, briskly, flicking her hair back from her face and moving towards the entrance to the alley. Suddenly Malfoy was blocking her way, his lips turned down in a scowl. She jumped, startled.

"What are you-"

"_Seriously,_ Granger?" he interrupted, crossing his arms in front of his chest, "Some dirty pub? _That's_ your big plan?"

"I don't have a plan," she reminded him, "I'm thinking on my feet here."

"Well you're not very good at it."

"Excuse me," she muttered with a glare, "But I don't see you coming up with any grand ideas. And besides, I've got my reasons…"

When he continued to glower at her, she sighed and practically stopped her foot in annoyance.

"If you don't like it, then fine. Leave. But _I'm_ going to the Hog's Head. And if you do decide to pull that stick out of your arse and come with me, I promised I would help you and I don't intend to break that promise. So what'll it be?"

Malfoy watched her critically for a long time, clearly not happy with the ultimatum. But he really didn't have another choice right now.

"Fine. But just in case you get us both killed, you're buying me a drink first," he muttered under his breath, before brushing past her and leading them both towards the main street.

Hermione rolled her eyes and followed, glaring at his back. Before they left the alley, Malfoy turned and cast a disillusionment glamour on them both so they wouldn't attract too much notice from the crowd. Although she hated to admit it, Hermione was rather impressed by his charm work. Together they ducked in and out of the few meagre number of shoppers and residents of the small village, though it was late at night and too few dared to wander the streets these days anyway. Hermione's pulse was racing as she looked around them. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts as she considered what was up ahead. Maybe Malfoy was right and this was a stupid idea, but she just had a feeling it would work.

As they came to the grisly old pub down the end of the road, Hermione took a deep breath. She looked up at the creaking sign hanging over the door. Then her eyes traced over the many windows caked with dirt and the cracked tiling on the roof.

_This might be a big mistake…_

Malfoy's gaze darted over to hers and he looked at her wryly as if to say "you've got to be kidding me". But this only made her courage rise in the face of his doubt, and she marched forwards to push open the front door of the pub. The interior was just as shadowy and grim as the outside. Next to her she saw Malfoy look around for any sign of other patrons, but it was eerily empty. He drew in a shaky breath and flicked his wand to cancel the charm concealing them.

"We're closed," a voice growled from the fireplace, its owner hidden by a tall wing backed chair.

"Um…excuse me…sir?" Hermione stammered nervously, twisting her fingers together as she wondered what she should say. When he heard her speak, the old man rose to his feet, his knees clicking stiffly. He turned to face the two young visitors in front of him with a scowl of disgust. The man was thin and wiry, with eyes that were flat and clouded by old memories. He had tanned, leathery skin that stretched across every bone. His moustache and beard fell in grey tangles and he had more stains on his clothes than she could count. Hermione swallowed.

"Good evening, sir-" she began, but he held up a hand to interrupt her.

"Well if it isn't the nosy little one. What do you want this time? Come to arrange another illegal meeting with your friends? Or maybe blackmail another unsuspecting journalist?"

Malfoy looked at her strangely as she smiled weakly and attempted to shrug off his words.

"Honestly, that wasn't what it looked like-"

"I don't want any more trouble here, missy!" he told her harshly, "so you can just clear out!"

"Please sir, I just-"

"Go on. Go bother someone else."

"But we need your help," she beseeched him, taking a few steps forward and watching him closely. He wasn't quite as abrasive as he seemed, of that she was sure, "We have nowhere else to go. Please, Mister Dumbledore…"

The old man almost jumped when she said his name, and his eyes locked onto hers, wide and haunted.

"What did you just call me?"

Hermione swallowed.

"Dumbledore," she repeated, "You _are_ Aberforth Dumbledore, aren't you?"

The man's hands clenched into fists and he glowered at her.

"And just how the bloody hell did you jump to that conclusion?"

"Your brother's biography… it was released a few weeks ago. The Life and Lies of Alb-"

"Yes I'm familiar with it," he snapped, "But I seem to recall that piece of drivel reported that the old coot's brother Aberforth had died some years ago… "

"Exactly. And who do you think confunded Rita Skeeter and planted that lie in her head after she found out the truth?"

There was a stunned silence at her words. Behind her she heard Malfoy snort and murmur something about 'interfering know-it-alls', but she just concentrated on Aberforth's bemused expression. He was silent for a while, before he finally scoffed.

"Ha," he laughed, his throat rasping with phlegm, "I was wondering what happened. That shameless old harpy started buzzing around here one day. I tried to swat her but she flew away. I thought for sure she'd weave some ridiculous story about me into that pile of garbage she called a book. I was almost disappointed to end up as a mere footnote. Deceased from a bout of dragon pox at the sad young age of sixty three, if I remember correctly."

Hermione nodded with a pleased half-smile.

"Yeh…sorry about that," she told him. Aberforth shook his head once more before staring her down again, his hands on his hips.

"Hmph. Well if you think I somehow owe you for keeping my privacy intact, then you can guess again."

"No, of course not," she assured him.

"Then why hide me? Why bother cursing that Skeeter hag to make her forget?"

"Well, your… uh…_establishment_," she said the word carefully, looking around dubiously at the grubby, soot incrusted walls of the pub, "is right here next to Hogwarts Castle, but somehow still seems to fall beneath everyone's notice. It seemed like a good strategic move to keep it that way."

Aberforth examined her closely, his beady eyes narrowed critically.

"I see you've learned a thing or two from my brother," he told her quietly after a while, "Make sure it doesn't become a habit, for yer own sake."

Hermione let out a sigh of relief; glad to see he'd at least admitted his identity and was no longer yelling for her to get out.

"I was hoping you would help us, sir. We're desperate…"

It was then that Aberforth's gaze flickered over her shoulder.

"You're the Malfoy boy, aren't ye?" he asked, his voice no more than a low grumble. She saw the blond step forwards nervously to stand next to her and he nodded.

"I am."

"Before he died, my brother told me you'd been chosen to be his killer. "

Malfoy's mouth dropped open a bit in stunned horror at this declaration.

"I…well I was…I mean I didn't…" he stammered, his face even whiter than usual. Hermione felt a pang of sympathy for him as his voice trailed off weakly and he hung his head in shame.

"It's complicated," she told the older man slowly, taking over.

Aberforth strode the few steps between them, standing toe to toe with the Slytherin. Then, unexpectedly out of nowhere, he suddenly clapped a hand to the boy's shoulder. It was almost a supportive, fatherly gesture.

"He also said I should keep me eye on you," he murmured, staring at him with narrowed eyes, "Said there was an eccentric little house elf out there somewhere that was going to keep watch and report back to me. Odd creature. Wears a lot of tea cosies."

Malfoy frowned in confusion, a look matched by Hermione. She could only imagine what the headmaster's convoluted plan was. Had he known that Malfoy would fail? Had he tried to help him from the beginning? She shook her head, pushing the thoughts aside. They had other, more immediate concerns.

"Please, sir…" she asked him, capturing his gaze with as much sincerity she could, knowing that he was a suspicious person by nature. "We need a place to stay. All we're asking for is a room and your help keeping us hidden."

"And some medical supplies," Malfoy added out of the blue. She turned to look at him in surprise. He gestured down to her arm, which was still throbbing and had turned an ugly shade of purple. He continued, "You're no good to me if you're injured," he added defensively with a grimace of embarrassment, seeming to shrug off his obvious concern for her. Hermione chose not to dwell too much on it. She nodded in thanks and turned back to Aberforth. He looked back and forth between them, as the stiffness seemed to leave his shoulders. Instead he just looked resigned.

"I knew that bloody fool would keep bothering me even after he died," he grumbled unhappily for a moment before jabbing his thumb towards the staircase at the back of the room, "I don't have much in the way of accommodation," he told them roughly, "Aside from my room it's just the one guest room up on the top floor. Used to be an attic. A bit dusty but I've got the place positively buried in protective wards. There's a few… shall we say… legally questionable items hidden up there so I've rigged it like a bloody death trap with concealment charms."

Hermione sighed in relief, giving the older man a grateful smile.

"Thank you so much-"

He held up a hand to stop her, glaring down at the two of them.

"This isn't some sodding leisure resort though, mind you!" he lectured them, "I don't want to hear no complaints about the bleeding state of the room. It's not exactly the luxury you lot would be used to. There's to be no magic upstairs, either. You hear me? I've got precious cargo up there and a single spell could tip the balance and blow the whole place up."

Hermione whitened, a bit taken aback by this worrying possibility. But Aberforth just ignored her and continued.

"And if you wanna eat me food you're gonna have to help out in the pub. S'only fair!"

Malfoy and Hermione both nodded vigorously, agreeing to his terms instantly. It was certainly a small price to pay for a safe place to hide. Hermione only wished she'd had a chance to be able to pack the Weasley's charmed tent, but it was sitting safely at the Burrow waiting for her to arrive. Which she never did.

"Of course," she told him, "We'll do whatever we can to help, sir."

"And stop calling me sir. It sounds bloody ridiculous. Aberforth will do."

Malfoy nodded and went to shake the pub owner's hand, but before he could even reach him, the old man had spun around and marched from the room. Within moments he was disappearing into the back storage room and down to the basement, slamming the door behind him. Hermione blinked and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

"Well… I guess I found us a place to stay…" she commented with a triumphant smirk. The look Malfoy gave her in return was withering. He huffed and started to trudge towards the stairs.

"It was a fluke at best," he told her over his shoulder.

Hermione snorted and followed after him.

"A bit lucky maybe, but I knew we could convince him."

"Only because you're a manipulative shrew."

She smiled at that and chuckled as she followed him up the rickety old staircase. The steps were steep and wound up through an endless series of cobwebs and dust pockets.

"Coming from a Slytherin I should take that as a compliment," she called up, ducking under a low hanging wooden beam.

"No, you shouldn't."

The two of them reached the top of the stairs where there was a narrow landing humming with the power of about a hundred layers of protective wards that all wavered in time to let them pass. Three doors sat there, rickety but solid. Malfoy pushed the one on the right half open and they spied a towering pile of splintered crates and boxes. These probably contained Aberforth's supply of illegal goods. Malfoy whistled, impressed with the size of the haul, before pulling it closed and going for the second door. That contained a small bathroom. It was just a few rusty taps, a dilapidated shower stall and a toilet in one corner. Functional but not fancy.

That left the third door. Hermione stepped forward to open that one with a slight twinge of dread. She pushed it open and they both stepped into the room, coughing as a wave of dust enveloped them. She immediately came up short when she realised that there really wasn't much room to speak of at all. There was a double bed that took up most of the space, nestled against the sloped wall of the roof. A mouldy cupboard sat in the opposite corner where the ceiling was high, connected to a long thin desk against that wall. Several candles were scattered on top of the various surfaces. They both stared at the space in dismay.

"Bloody hell," Malfoy growled, "You've got to be kidding me."

Hermione tried to rally her spirits, knowing that it may not be particularly pleasant to look at, but at least they'd be safe here, even if just for a little while. She could practically feel the tingle of shield magic against her skin.

"Oh it's not so bad. It's…uh…cosy."

Malfoy's stare was like ice as he pointed angrily at the bed.

"Well in that case _you_ can sleep in the shower," he told her, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the bathroom. It was only then that Hermione realised what he was getting at. There was only _one _bed.

"Oh…_oh! _Well I admit that's not ideal…"

"Not ideal?" he repeated incredulously, "It's unthinkable. I won't do it. We're not staying here."

Hermione sighed and leaned back against the doorjamb.

"You heard Aberforth. The headmaster asked him to look out for you. Maybe it was fate that we ended up here. Maybe he can help us with your _problem_," she argued, gesturing down to his forearm. "It's true that this room may be… a little bit… _intimate_," Malfoy snorted at this, "but it definitely has enough charms and wards jumbled together to camouflage your mark and keep us hidden from whoever tries to search for you. For a while anyway."

Malfoy grumbled under his breath for a few moments, seemingly unconvinced. He turned to face the opposite wall, arms folded. Hermione groaned, taking a deep breath to push down her irritation.

"We're both adults," she reasoned, and she thought maybe she was trying to convince herself as much as him, "I'm sure we can find a mature, diplomatic way to share the space without killing each other."

The blond boy snorted and shook his head. He turned back to her with a slightly crooked leer.

"You know, if your big plan was to seduce me, then there are far easier, less unpleasant methods…"

Hermione gasped at his statement, immediately reacting by smacking him hard across the back of the head.

"Ow-"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Malfoy," she scolded him, her lips pressed into a tight scowl as she glared at him, "As _if_! I'd rather sleep with a dementor."

"Alright, no need to get violent."

She continued to scowl at him even as he grinned, clearly enjoying her outrage. Shaking his head in amusement, he drew his wand from his back pocket, pointing it towards the bed.

"Are you daft?" Hermione yelled, grabbing his arm and lowering it before he could do anything stupid, "He said no magic up here. Can't you _feel_ all those wards?"

Malfoy groaned and pocketed it again.

"Fine. But if I can't separate the bed then at least let me take that disgusting excuse for a quilt downstairs and transfigure it into something that's not infested with…ugh who knows what!"

"Not up to your usual standards, Lord Malfoy?" she sneered, doing her best impression of him.

"Not exactly. But I'm sure _you'll _be right at home."

Hermione scoffed and reached into the inside pocket of her jacket. As she withdrew her purple beaded bag it expanded to grow larger. At least all her charms were still in place, she thought with relief, even if her wand had been reduced to splinters. The bag now became heavier as its contents responded.

"What's that?" the blond Slytherin asked her curiously as he sidled carefully around the small space, testing out the various drawers.

"My belongings…"

"What? A few spare knuts?" he joked, pointing at the tiny beaded bag nestled in the palm of her hand. Hermione rolled her eyes. She seemed to be doing that a lot around him. She chose to ignore him and instead reached her hand deep inside, rummaging around for her old school treasures. Malfoy glanced back at her as he opened up the corner cupboard, his eyes widening as he saw her whole arm disappearing into the tiny satchel.

"What the bloody hell-"

Hermione let out an aggravated noise and felt around the space impatiently.

"Where is it?" she groaned to herself, "Eurrgh."

"What are you looking for?" he demanded, stepping back in closer and looking at the bag with interest now.

"It's a galleon I made in fifth year. I used the Protean charm to link it to some others. I thought I could get a message to Harry and Ron…"

Malfoy visibly cringed at the mention of her friends, but then considered her with a mocking expression.

"A protean charm _and_ an undetectable extension charm? Seriously Granger, did you not have _any_ social life at school?"

Hermione laughed sarcastically and tossed her hair back to get it out of her face as she reached deeper into the bag.

"Like you can talk, Malfoy. You spent all year fixing that Vanishing Cabinet, which I'm sure wasn't just simple charms work!"

Malfoy frowned at her.

"How do you know about that?"

"Hmm?" she mumbled distractedly as she felt something familiar at the bottom of the bag.

"Who told you about the cabinet?"

"Everyone knows," she told him with a shrug. He blanched, his face whitening.

"_Everyone?_"

She nodded, finally feeling the galleon beneath her fingertips and pulling it out of the bag with a triumphant shout.

"Got it!"

Malfoy strode back over to her side, his eyes narrowed in a scowl.

"Focus Granger. How does everyone know about-"

"Harry told us," she explained, interrupting him gently, feeling a bit sorry for him. He looked slightly queasy and her heart went out to him, "He was on the astronomy tower that night. He saw what happened with the headmaster."

The blond Slytherin groaned and ran his hands through his hair.

"_Potter _was there?" he spat, his cheeks flushing with mortification, "Well that's just bloody perfect, isn't it? Now I'm doomed no matter who wins this war."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if I'd stayed the Dark Lord would have killed me eventually, probably sooner rather than later, but if your friends somehow survive and win against all odds they'll just throw me in Azkaban. Either way I'm screwed."

Hermione grimaced and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.

"Not necessarily," she reasoned, "Harry said you actually lowered your wand and that you weren't going to kill Headmaster Dumbledore."

"I still helped the death eaters get in though, didn't I? And besides, Potter fucking hates me and the feeling is more than mutual. He's hardly going to defend me, is he?"

"Of course he will."

"He tried to slice me in half last year, remember? What reason could he possibly have to speak on my behalf?"

Hermione shrugged casually, turning the galleon over in her hand and smiling innocently at the blond Slytherin.

"He will, if I ask him to."

Malfoy scoffed, looking at her dubiously. Hermione just shook her head, not exactly in the mood to keep pandering to him right now when she had other more pressing worries. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she turned the coin over in her hand. Concentrating on the digits around the outside, she clenched the coin in her hand and shut her eyes, focusing on what she wanted to appear. Once she was done she opened them again and inspected it.

"What did you do?" Malfoy asked, leaning against the opposite wall.

"I've tried to spell out a message…"

Malfoy peered over to read the numbers burned into a circle around the edge of the coin.

"1 – 12 – 9 – 22 – 5," he murmured as he read it.

"It's an alphanumeric code. Each number represents a letter of the alphabet."

"Huh… so what does it say?"

"_Alive."_

Malfoy nodded thoughtfully, thought he looked a little sceptical.

"And you think those two morons will figure it out?"

"I hope so," she sighed, "We used to always just send dates and times. I've never tried communicating with any kind of cipher."

"I think you're overestimating them."

"Now why doesn't that surprise me?"

Malfoy snorted and shook his head, moving to sit on the bed. Hermione continued to peer into the small opening of her bag, running her hand across each of the items she'd packed to make sure they were all in place.

"Huh, that's weird. My Gryffindor scarf is missing."

"No big loss."

Hermione shook her head with an indulgent smile. Had she maybe left it at Privet Drive, she wondered. She'd definitely packed it. Eventually she shrugged and put the bag down gently on the side table. It made a jarringly heavy thump for such a small bag. The two of them sat side by side for a little while in silence, both somewhat uncomfortable but trying not to be. Eventually Malfoy produced a small medical kit of various vials and jars.

"I found this in one of the drawers. You'd better show me your arm," he told her sullenly, refusing to meet her eye as he shifted a bit awkwardly on the bed next to her to get closer. Hermione watched him in surprise. Rationally she knew he'd just saved her life but she was still trying to come to grips with the idea. It was odd and a bit unsettling to see him being so nice to her. She wanted to ask him why, to confront him about his behaviour, but she was too tired and it had been a long day and a long night. It was probably after midnight by now, maybe even the early hours of the morning. So instead she just drew in a deep breath and eased her arm up away from her body. She hadn't even realised how stiff her posture had become from the lingering pain. And it was growing increasingly worse as his numbing charm wore off. Malfoy took her arm in his hands, cradling her wrist carefully as he turned it over.

"May I?" he asked nervously, indicating her sleeve. Hermione nodded but winced as he pushed the sleeve delicately up her arm. Her skin was mottled red and purple with bruises and there was a deep gash up the middle of her forearm that bore the same blue shade as the curse she'd been hit with.

"So… I think he's got some bruise paste in here…"

Malfoy rifled through the medical kit and withdrew a dusty looking jar. Hermione nodded.

"Any Murtlap essence?" she asked. He searched a little deeper and pulled out a tiny stopper.

"This one?"

She nodded, gesturing to it with her uninjured hand.

"Use that one on the laceration first and then the paste on the skin."

Malfoy nodded, seemingly happy to follow her instructions for now. Maybe healing was the one area where he would actually tolerate her superior expertise. It was strange seeing him so open and not hurling snide comments at her.

"Just a few drops-"

He used the stopper to drip the liquid into the gash, and she sighed with relief at the immediate warmth it caused in her arm as it got to work. The next part, however, was significantly more embarrassing. Malfoy coated his fingers with bruise paste and began to rub it gently into her skin. It was one of the more surreal experiences of her life. Her childhood nemesis, the one who'd called her cruel names and had looked down on her for her blood status, was touching her with more care than she could have believed possible. His fingers were tender and moved slowly, as though he were almost savouring the moment. She held her breath the entire time, staring at their arms resting closely together. Him with the ominous shape of a skull burned black against his pale skin, and her with that long cut, criss-crossed with dappled bruising. She cleared her throat to speak, unable to bear the awkward silence anymore.

"Have you felt anything from your mark? Any pain or… I dunno… anything weird?"

Malfoy shook his head faintly, still concentrating on the skin of her arm as he responded quietly.

"Not really, apart from the occasional sting of a summons. And I haven't felt anything since we came upstairs here. I guess that barmy old fossil was right."

Hermione smiled softly. She noticed that he had stopped rubbing the paste into her skin and was just holding her arm now. Now that he was up close, she could see that his normally pale skin was almost translucent, and there were dark circles under his eyes that spoke of too many sleepless nights.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked her, gesturing to her arm.

"No, I'll be alright" she told him with a small shake of the head, "I doubt there's much else of use in that old medical kit amyway. Besides, all I want right now is a _looong _sleep."

Malfoy snorted and nodded in agreement.

"You want me to put some pillows in the shower for you?" he joked lightly and Hermione chuckled too. She gave him a scathing look, too exhausted to bicker with him anymore.

"Fine!" he groaned with a slight smirk, "I'll take these mouldy old blankets downstairs and clean them with a quick charm… or maybe twenty. Be back in a minute."

He grabbed them into a big pile and disappeared down the creaking staircase. Hermione sighed and let a smile rest on her lips for a moment after he'd gone. Who knew that she could spend an entire evening with her childhood bully and unexpected rescuer Draco Malfoy and for them to _not_ kill each other. It was a miracle. She was filled with a renewed determination to help him with his dark mark. She owed it to him after all. If it weren't for him she'd undoubtedly be dead, and in a fairly horrific way no less. It was the least she could do. And another part of her was intrigued. He seemed so different. The changes that had been wrought in him were remarkable and she wanted to know more. What had happened to that petty, spoilt boy from school? What had he been through?

Hermione turned the gold coin over in her hand. There had been no reply message from Harry yet and she wondered whether he had even bothered to hold onto his galleon after fifth year or whether he'd check it when he heard she was missing. She wasn't sure how else to contact him, not without a wand. And the ministry was not only probably compromised by now but they were also tracking all the owl traffic. She only hoped that her hot-headed friend didn't forget all his common sense in a fit of guilt and do something stupid when he found out she was missing.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the reappearance of Malfoy. He was carrying a significantly cleaner set of sheets and blankets this time and had a slightly timid expression on his normally cool, conceited face. Hermione smiled shyly at him and got up to help. Together they silently made the bed, each taking a corner of the sheet to tuck it in and then place the light knitted quilt over the top. Her eyes darted up to his as he shoved a pillow into its newly dust-free case.

"I bet you've never made a bed before in your life, right?" she laughed as she watched him struggle to figure out why the pillow looked so lumpy when he'd crammed it in the wrong way. Malfoy looked up at her, his features a picture of frustration.

"Is it supposed to be this difficult?" he joked. She chuckled again.

"No, you're just an incompetent pureblood snob."

He actually stuck his tongue out at her in response and it only made her smile widen. She moved around the bed and gently took the pillow from him, tidying it up with a couple of deft, well practiced tugs at the material. She threw it back into his chest and he gave a small _oomf _of surprise. She watched him test it out and pad it down suspiciously, before nodding in approval.

There was an uncomfortable pause then as they each stood at the edges of the bed, both wanting to sleep but neither wanting to make the first move. Eventually Malfoy gestured almost politely to the space opposite where he was standing and Hermione slid under the covers. He moved as well, and she was surprised by how bizarre it all felt, how clumsily domestic, as they climbed into bed together.

As she dropped her head down onto her pillow, Malfoy's gaze lifted and their eyes met, causing both to blush with embarrassment. He cleared his throat uneasily. Then by some kind of unspoken mutual agreement they both turned at the same time to lie with their backs facing each other.

The silence in the room was strained. The gentle hum of the wind outside and the tingle of Aberforth's wards seemed to be the only sensations in the room. But then as Hermione settled down deeper into the mattress and tried to even her breathing ready for sleep, she became aware of other things. Like the heat from another body warming her back beneath the quilt. Or the smell on the sheets that reminded her distinctively of Malfoy. Peppermint and expensive cologne. It was strangely soothing.

Even though she was more than ready to sleep after everything that had happened, Hermione worked up the courage to speak into the darkness.

"Malfoy?"

"Hmm?" he mumbled sleepily, and she guessed he was just as exhausted as she was, unsurprisingly.

"I…um… thank you. For saving my life."

There was a painfully long silence following her words, and she could almost feel the tension in his back from the other side of the bed. After what felt like several minutes he finally replied in a small, drowsy voice.

"You're welcome."

Hermione smiled into her pillow and closed her eyes again. With a weight lifted from her shoulders she allowed sleep to claim her, comforted by the calm, protective presence behind her.

…

…

…

**Thanks for reading! And thank you most of all for reviewing! I will try keep up the pace if you keep giving me wonderful guidance and suggestions so I don't lose my way! Til next time.**


	4. Chapter Four

**Here we go again…**

**A shock or two might arise this chapter… but hopefully it all still makes sense. Looking forward to seeing where this one goes and how I can make it interesting.**

**Thanks for your continued interest! Enjoy! As always, JKR is the real brain behind all this.**

**…**

**Chapter Four**

It was almost midnight at The Burrow, and the house was filled with a suffocating air of tension. Since George had returned with one bloody, disfigured ear, the mood had gone rapidly downhill from relief at their survival to worry. As the minutes ticked by that worry transformed into panic. More than one pair had missed their expected arrival time. When Ron and Tonks finally arrived, Harry felt one small weight dislodge itself from his chest, knowing that his best mate had lived. He was still reeling from the death of poor innocent Hedwig, who'd only tried to protect her master.

But there were still four people missing. The group waited, pacing around the back door of the lopsided house impatiently. Harry's whole body felt rigid with nervousness. He had known this was a terrible idea. He'd tried so hard to dissuade the others from following such a mad, hair-brained scheme, not wanting so many to risk their lives on his behalf. But it had been out of his control it seemed.

The sharp crack of apparition made every head turn towards the far end of the garden, all their faces lit with hope. Molly raced forwards with a shout of relief as Bill and Fleur appeared. She threw her arms around her eldest son, weeping tears of joy. She even threw herself at Fleur who everyone knew she notoriously disliked. It seemed such petty feelings were to be buried in light of the woman's bravery and willingness to put her life on the line. She was undoubtedly part of the family now.

Harry frowned as he watched the others welcome the two arrivals. He felt a presence at his shoulder and turned to see Ron searching the tree line intently.

"Why isn't she here yet... where the bloody hell is Hermione?" his friend murmured, his freckled face a shockingly pale shade of white. Harry's heart clenched painfully with a mutual fear as he observed his friend. He wasn't sure what to say.

"She'll be here, any minute now," he stated numbly, not willing to believe anything else. There was simply no room for any other possible outcome in his mind. Ron nodded sharply.

"You're right. It's Hermione! I bet she came up with some kind of brilliant plan to get away..."

Bill and Fleur approached the rest of the group at The Burrow who were waiting with the most fragile of nerves. Fred even appeared in the doorway to clap a hand on his older brother's shoulder.

"George's sleeping. He got his ear almost sliced clean off by Snape, the slimy git."

Harry felt a wave of rage shudder through him at the mention of his former professor, but now was not the time to go down that path. Bill shared a look with his fiancée and shook his head.

"That's not all,' he began sadly, "Moody's gone. He was killed by You-Know-Who himself. We saw him…"

He hung his head and the group fell eerily silent at the news.

"We couldn't even get to his body…" he continued eventually, but Molly just shushed him soothingly and wrapped a motherly arm around his shoulders.

There was a sense of foreboding in the group then. Harry looked around, feeling desperate and helpless all at once.

"What about-" he started, but couldn't quite finish the thought, his voice trailing off. He couldn't say it. Nobody could. They waited in the yard for another half an hour or so before eventually many of them were too tired. Slowly, one by one, people began filtering indoors to nurse their wounds or just sit by the fire and rest. It had been a long, gruelling night.

Harry and Ron remained where they were. The two of them kept a silent vigil, watching the apparition point fixedly. Every sound that pierced the night made their pulses race. Every movement put them on alert. But still nothing.

Harry wasn't sure how long they stayed there. He vaguely registered when Ginny brought them both a cup of tea, but the warm liquid just tasted like ash and he could barely swallow it.

It was early morning by the time the cracking of apparition echoed across the valley once more. A scant yellowish hue of light brushed the horizon, though the sun wouldn't rise properly for at least another hour or so. They had been motionless for so long that both boys almost jerked upright in shock. As one, they raced across the ragged lawn, marching together to greet their friend. Harry heard the footsteps of others emerging from the house behind them.

Then they froze. Both boys were brought up short by the horrified realisation that it was only Kingsley Shacklebolt who stood before them. The imposing, broad shouldered man looked weary and his eyes were bleak. He reluctantly lifted his gaze up to their faces.

"I'm so sorry-" he croaked, his deep voice broken.

"Where is she?" Ron asked thickly, looking around as if he expected their friend to appear from the trees at any second, "Where's Hermione?"

By now the rest of the group from the Burrow had arrived, and Harry distantly heard a couple of gasps of horror, though the sound was muffled by the ringing in his ears.

"Kingsley… what happened?" Arthur asked.

The auror cleared his throat, hanging his head in shame.

"We were hit by a curse. I tried to hold onto the thestral and keep it in the air, but she was gone. She fell. By the time I found her in the forest below…"

He paused and let out a long, shaky breath.

"I didn't have time to bring her back, the place was crawling with death eaters. But I took this from her body…"

The towering man stooped to reach into the inside of his long cloak. He produced a frayed, knitted scarf in crimson and gold colours. A Gryffindor scarf.

"No," Ron spluttered, his voice choking into a pitiful whine as his gaze passed over the scarf, stained red with splotches of blood, "No, no, no. It's not true. It can't be-"

Harry couldn't say anything. While abstractedly he could hear Ron's shouts of denial, his own body was paralysed with shock. The icy feeling of helpless rage, hatred and guilt was spreading through him like a malignant disease. He pushed past Ginny as she tried to comfort him, stepping away from the trees. Arthur was trying to hold down Ron who had gone absolutely mental. But Harry just fell to his knees in the dust, cold and paralysed both inside and out. His mind was tormented with visions of Hermione lying alone somewhere in the dark with no friends or family around her. Alone. She'd been all alone.

That was when he lost it.

…..

As the chaos and the grief unfolded around him, Kingsley Shacklebolt watched on with a sense of savage glee. It was exactly as the Dark Lord had planned it. With the Granger girl now missing and wandless, Harry Potter had only really needed that little push to believe that she was dead. It brought the emotionally vulnerable boy one step closer to doing something stupid. One step closer to revealing himself to Lord Voldemort and revealing whatever plans Dumbledore had imparted to him. Ideally Kingsley was supposed to have actually killed the insufferable little mudblood for real, but things hadn't quite worked out that way. The girl had plummeted from their thestral as intended, but there had been no sign of her body below no matter how far and wide he had searched. Still, he supposed it was only a matter of time before they tracked her down and finished the job, and until then it only mattered that Potter _believed _it to be true.

The first step was to merely weaken the boy.

The second was to overthrow the Ministry of Magic (which was proving to be laughable easy actually).

Then they would have all the pieces set and ready for the final game.

And Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, would be taken apart piece by piece until nobody dared to stand in the Dark Lord's way again.

…

…

…

It didn't take long for Draco to scavenge some breakfast together the next morning. Aberforth might be running a fairly seedy pub down this end of Hogsmeade, but it seemed as though the wizard liked a good meal as much as the next person. When he opened the cellar door, his mouth dropped open at the sheer size of his discovery. There were crates upon crates of elf made wine, scotch and firewhiskey stacked in towering piles, barrels filled with cheese and cured meats, hundreds of jars with just about anything pickled in them and overflowing bags of nuts, dried fruits and eggs. He poked further into the room and foraged around, muttering to himself in disbelief. Aberforth was certainly a man of mystery. With a shrug, he gathered a few pieces into his arms he thought might be suitable and slipped back up the staircase on tiptoes. It was unlikely that any customers would see him, but then again he _did _have rather distinctive features and it was late enough in the day for certain types of patrons to want a stiff drink.

The two young outlaws (which is what they were now, he supposed) had slept in much later than was usual for either of them. Both had been exhausted by what had unfolded last night and it had been rather early in the morning before they were able to escape into sleep and forget their troubles for a little while. Personally, Draco had slept like a damn log. It had been strange, he mused as he trudged back up the stairs towards their dusty attic room. The heat of another person in bed with him was not something he was familiar with normally. When he woke up at almost midday earlier, he'd felt so…warm. Even though they had thankfully kept a little distance between their bodies during the night (or early morning) the sheets had still been snug and inviting. When he'd first woken, he had kept his eyes shut tight for at least ten minutes just willing his mind to go back to sleep; his body was too comfortable to move from that cosy space. Then of course his pesky brain had woken up properly and he'd remembered _why _it was so damn warm and he'd forced himself to get out of there quick smart. The last thing he wanted was for Granger to think he _liked _sleeping with her. Merlin forbid.

Draco snorted as he approached the door to their room, listening for any sounds of movement. Granger had woken up with a jolt the moment he'd left the bed earlier, her hair even wilder than usual and her face scrunched up groggily. She'd pouted at him and rubbed her eyes.

"Wha s'time?" she'd croaked and he had to remind himself that she'd fallen about four hundred metres out of the sky and been cursed by death eaters last night. She certainly wasn't cute in the mornings. Nope. No way. She was a pain in the ass.

"It's late. I'm starving," he'd sneered, turning his back to the bed and trying not to look her way as she stretched her sore muscles.

"Go find yourself some food then, your majesty," she'd grumbled and he'd done just that without another word.

Opening the door to the bedroom now, he wasn't sure why he'd bothered bringing up enough food for the bossy little swot to eat something too. He supposed it was because he needed her alert and at her best to start solving the problem of his dark mark. They needed to sort this out as soon as possible. If that meant bringing her sustenance then so be it. He almost laughed at the absurdity that he was basically, for all intents and purposes, bringing Granger breakfast in bed. The old Draco Malfoy would have probably hexed him sideways for it.

As it was, Granger wasn't even in bed anymore. _Thank Salazar for that. _She'd clearly gotten up and dressed in the time he'd been downstairs. Draco glared enviously at her little beaded bag, wishing he also had a change of clothes and some basic necessities. No matter how hard he'd tried, he hadn't quite been able to smooth down his normally impeccable blond locks. Instead he just sneered at her as she wrestled with her own catastrophic hair.

"Not even magic could fix that bird's nest, Granger," he told her smugly. Granger responded by sticking her tongue out at him.

"Like you can talk. Have you seen _your_ hair this morning?"

Draco frowned petulantly, reaching one free hand up to pat down the top of his head self-consciously, which only made Granger snort with laughter. More deftly than he could keep up with, he watched the infuriating witch twist her hair around her hand and pile it up into a knot above her head, snapping an elastic around it until the messy bun just sat there somehow, defying gravity. Her gaze then fell to the bundle in his arms then.

"Breakfast?" she asked him eagerly and Draco felt suddenly glad that he had in fact decided not to be petty and had brought some for her. He nodded.

"It seems our surly inn keeper has a penchant for good food."

Grange watched in surprise as he laid out the towel he'd used to carry his loot with each item spread out on top of it on the bed. There were morsels of cheese, walnuts, apricots and some salted pork.

"Huh… that's certainly unexpected. Nice work."

She went to grab an apricot when Draco pulled the blanket further away, tutting at her like one would a naughty child.

"Not so fast, Granger. What's the magic word?"

The witch glared at him.

"You're a prat."

"Close enough," he announced with a smirk, digging into the breakfast himself. They sat quietly for a moment; both too busy filling their hungry bellies to converse (or more likely argue in their case). After a while Granger cleared her throat and spoke through a mouthful of cheese.

"We need books," she told him seriously, swallowing and fixing him with her deep brown gaze.

"Books?" he repeated a bit dumbly, his own voice muffled by some pork, not sure what she was getting at here.

"Yep," she replied, her lips popping on the '_p_' as she bit into an apricot. Draco found himself a touch distracted and shook his head, focusing on the confusing statement.

"What books?"

"I need to learn more about the magic that went into making your creepy tattoo," she told him, "and how its signature is linked to Voldemort."

Draco shuddered.

"Don't say his name," he scolded instantly, a trickle of discomfort easing up his spine.

"Fearing a name is irrational-" she began in a prim voice.

"It's not just a name," he interrupted crossly, "Look, I don't know when it's going to happen or even if it's possible, but the death eaters were planning at some point to curse the name and make it easier to trace people who use it. They call it a taboo. I think they figure it'll help them locate their enemies."

Granger's eyes widened.

"_Oh_. Okay. Um…well, thanks for letting me know I guess. I will mind my words."

"If only that were true. Now what were you yammering about? You need books about the magic that forged my mark?"

"Ideally, yes! Perhaps we could take a trip to Torin's Tomes just down the road? He has a good selection of books on darker charms and blood magic if you know where to look."

"Uh… aren't you missing something Granger?" he asked dryly, "It's not like either of us are exactly incognito in the looks department are we? We can't just go wandering around!"

She frowned and inspected them both critically for a second.

"Hmmm you have a point," she began with a frown, before perking up almost immediately, "But not to worry, I have a solution!"

With an overly cheerful smile, Granger bounded away and fetched her little bag from the sideboard. She rummaged through it for a moment before withdrawing an overly large hip flask. Her smile was a bit smug as she waved it in front of his face.

"So we just drink away all our problems? Now you're talking," he joked dryly, leaning back on his hands in a casual stance. He didn't even care if it was the middle of the day or with prissy Hermione Granger of all people; he was more than ready to drown his sorrows in liquor.

"What? No. It's Polyjuice potion."

Draco looked at the flask a bit sceptically.

"Polyjuice?" he asked flatly, "Doesn't that take over a month to brew?"

"34 days to be precise," she replied primly, "I started brewing a batch as soon as the holidays started just in case. But that's not all. I alsooo…"

She stuck her arm right down into the bag and felt around, her forehead creasing in a frown of concentration.

"Aha!" she withdrew a few little glass tubes with different coloured hairs in them, "I collected these samples from some of my muggle neighbours. _Don't_ ask me how! And I made absolutely sure no pets were involved whatsoever. I have male hair here too, although obviously they were originally intended for Harry and Ron..."

Draco blinked at her a bit dumbly as she ranted on somewhat incoherently about her potion. She was a little firecracker when she got going, he realised. Especially if she was talking about something academic. He was both intimidated and fascinated.

"You know," he told her in a deceptively casual tone as he reached out to take the flask from her, bringing it to his nose for an unpleasant sniff, "I always hated you at school because you seemed to be able to beat me in every little damn thing, from pointless topic quizzes to our OWL exams. I used to always punish myself for not studying enough, not working hard enough to overtake you. But the truth is, I never really stood a chance, did I?"

Granger flushed an almost attractive shade of pink at his words, dropping her gaze to the bed between them.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were being nice to me just now," she told him eventually with a wry half smile. Draco scoffed quietly.

"Really? I though I was calling you an annoyingly swotty know-it-all."

The witch shrugged, before grinning at him in a positively wicked way.

"Whatever you say. But you should know I took extreme satisfaction in always beating the little pureblood snob who thought he was god's gift."

"Hmmm," he hummed at her, eyes narrowed in a glare, "And tell me, oh great brainy one, did you at least manage to find even a slightly good-looking muggle boy in that batch somewhere that I can transform into? I wouldn't want to lower my standards."

Granger rolled her eyes and shoved one of the glass vials at him. He took it, inspecting the brunette strands of hair a bit dubiously.

"Trust me, it'll be an improvement," she told him in a withering voice. He just chuckled quietly at her comment before turning his attention to the lone galleon that was still sitting on the side table. He noticed that she kept checking it every so often, but nothing had changed on its tarnished gold surface.

"To be honest, Granger, I'm a bit surprised I didn't wake up this morning to find you'd stolen my wand and run off to your little band of morons."

The witch sighed and contemplated him with a frown.

"I made you a promise, didn't I?" she asked him solemnly.

"You did."

"You might not like me very much, Malfoy, but I'm no liar. I promised I'd help you, so I will," she told him without even a hint of sarcasm or irony in her voice. Her impossibly brown eyes were about as sincere as he'd ever seen them.

"And what about Pisspot Potter and his Weasel?"

She snorted a bit at his insult, but then let out a slow breath.

"I honestly don't know. They should be at the Order safe house by now. I hope they get my message and that they don't do anything stupid. There's not much more I can do for them right now. We have a…mission of sorts. But none of us even knew where to begin the last time we spoke. And it's not like I can do much to find them without a wand."

"So… you'll stay? You're really going to help me figure this out?" he asked, hating the shaky tone of hopefulness that tinged his words.

"Of course. You saved my life."

Draco nodded, but watched curiously as the witch's lips twitched and she tilted her head to one side in thought. A single strand of hair escaped the loose bun she'd styled and dropped to brush lightly against one check. She tugged it back impatiently.

"And even if you hadn't caught me last night…" she continued, "I think I'd want to help anyway…"

"Oh?" he prompted, and he had a feeling he knew where this was going. Sure enough, Granger sat quietly on the bed, wringing her fingers together nervously as if trying to summon the right words. Draco took a deep breath and leaned against the side table, waiting patiently for her to work up the courage to ask what he knew she was dying to know. He wasn't sure why he was suddenly anxious himself. Even though he'd saved her life it didn't give her the right to know every sordid little detail about him, did it? He swallowed and regarded her calmly on the outside even though his thoughts were a bit jumbled on the inside. Another part of him was happy to get it off his chest. He wanted someone to know. He wanted just one other person in this savage, cruel world to understand the _real _Draco Malfoy; the one who had emerged from the ashes and was trying his best to be a better person.

"I also want to help you because I'm…intrigued. And a bit stunned actually," she told him in a slightly shaky tone and with a weak laugh, "I know we've all grown up a lot, and I know our sixth year was… more difficult for you than anyone. But Malfoy you have to admit, saving the life of a muggleborn, and especially _me, _is more than a little out of character. You've clearly changed; I'd be stupid not to notice. But what I'm trying to figure out is how _much _you've changed. Can I trust you? Or are you just using me to get what you want?"

"Is that what you think?" he asked her quietly, a muscle in his jaw twitching with tension.

"I don't have a wand, Malfoy. I need your help just as much as you need mine right now. I'd be a fool if I didn't treat you with _some _caution."

Draco grimaced and stared at her with hooded eyes.

"You willingly slept next to someone last night you thought might want to cause you harm?"

"Not someone who'd harm me, no," she answered slowly, considering her words carefully, "But someone who I don't… fully understand."

He considered her carefully for a long moment, trying to figure out what she wanted him to say. What _he _wanted to say. So much had happened since Hogwarts.

"That night in the hospital wing," he began, not daring to meet her gaze but staring intently at a stain on the floor, "when Potter sliced me half open and I thought I was dying… you were kind to me."

He cleared his throat and shifted, feeling a bit awkward with the serious turn the conversation had taken.

"This may sound really pathetic, but it was the first time in years that someone had actually treated me _kindly_."

"I find that hard to believe," Granger argued wryly, "I seem to recall Pansy fawning all over you when you returned to classes after-"

"That's not kindness," he corrected her, chuckling hoarsely at the memory of Pansy's rather juvenile attempts to flatter and pander to him, "She was doing that for herself, not for me. It was entirely self-serving. But _you _had absolutely no reason to treat me the way you did that night. In fact, you had every reason _not _to. So when I saw you falling last night, going after you just felt like the right thing to do. Not because I like you. Because I'm pretty sure you're still the most annoying person on the planet," he heard her chuckle at that, but pushed on, "But because you were kind to me."

"But you didn't just save me, Malfoy," she pointed out, "you abandoned You-Know-Who, the death eaters, your _parents_…"

"I didn't do it for you," he told her sternly, raising his eyes to hers and frowning, "I did it for myself. I know in the past I've been a coward and a bully and a complete fool, but I shouldn't have to defend myself for wanting to leave the death eaters."

Granger looked a little bit taken aback but merely watched him quietly, waiting for him to finish what he had to say. He appreciated it.

"Do you know what they do for fun?" he asked in a bitter tone. She shook her head with an apprehensive expression.

"They kill innocent people. Muggles mostly. And you know what they do when they're angry? They kill people. And when they want power? Kill people. And when they're sad. Or drunk. Or just bored. I might have been a terrible little snot at school, but I'm not a murderer. And I hate that I even have to say that! I hate that my parents gave me no _choice_. I hate that Dumbledore waited until the last possible moment to try and help me when he knew it was too late. And I hate that it took me until I was sixteen fucking years old to really start to question the values and opinions that had been forced on me since birth. I hate _myself_, Granger. You get it? And I need to _do_ something about that or I may as well Avada myself."

By the time he was finished, Draco was shaking. It had felt odd to say it all out loud after bottling it up for so long. Good, but strange. He lifted his head and waited for some kind of reaction. Granger was silent as she absorbed his explanation. It was understandable that she was confused. He'd belittled her and tormented her for years, then saved her life and formed some kind of truce all in the space of a day. She probably needed time to assess him. But she surprised him when she merely shook her head with a soft little smile.

"You can't Avada yourself," she told him quietly.

"What?"

"You can't Avada yourself. It's not possible. It's the second impregnable rule of wand lore. A wand's loyalty to its master doesn't allow them to cause irreversible harm to themselves. I read a book about it. That's why the majority of wizard suicides are by poison." She paused then added jokingly, "Or people throwing themselves in front of the Knight bus."

Draco gaped at her for a second, then lifted one eyebrow questioningly at her words.

"Seriously Granger? Is _that_ really what you got out of all that?"

Her smile widened slightly.

"No. I just wasn't ready to admit what I was really thinking," she sighed heavily, as if summoning her courage, "That I misjudged you. That I'm ashamed to say I thought you were merely saving your own skin. I didn't realise you might actually have more _noble_ reasons for running away."

Draco snorted and shrugged his shoulder lightly.

"Let's not get sentimental, alright? I'm not about to jump in and join the Order of the bloody Phoenix or anything. I just want to be able to look at myself in the mirror every day and not regret what I see."

Granger smiled at him properly then.

"Sounds pretty noble to me."

"Fucking Gryffindor," he grumbled under his breath, but his lips twitched a bit at her words. Granger exhaled loudly.

"I'm serious. You want to be a better person. That takes courage. Even if we weren't both stuck here and you didn't need my help and I hadn't lost my wand…I think maybe that's worth sticking around to see."

She shrugged once more, letting her face light up with a nervous smile. Before he knew it, Granger was jumping to her feet and snapping open the lid of the flask.

"Anyway, enough moping… we've got some research to do!"

Draco grumbled under his breath, tapping his foot briskly against the floorboards.

"Great. Research," he deadpanned, but it was hardly surprising that Granger wasn't fooled for a second.

"Don't act like you're not even the teensiest bit interested," she scolded him, "I remember how good you were with linking charms at school. Remember when Flitwick tried to pair us together for that project on adhesive spells because we were his top two students? And then you conveniently broke your arm playing Quidditch and I had to do all the work by myself while you just sat there like a grump!"

"As if you even needed my help," he grumbled.

"True I suppose," she sighed, before darting out of the room and grabbing two glasses from the bathroom next door. She returned with a nervous grin and began to pour two measures of the foul looking liquid. It was grey and lumpy and smelled positively disgusting. Draco winced as he took his glass from her, his nose wrinkling up at the thought of actually swallowing the stuff.

"Now add the hair…" she instructed quietly, reaching for her own vial. They each uncorked their sample and withdrew the muggle hairs carefully from within. Draco's was a dark, chocolate brown, while Granger held tightly onto a couple of darker blond strands. They worked in sync to add the hairs, each watching as the potion bubbled and hissed before slowly turning colour. His now resembled a greenish sludge, while Granger held a yellowy orange mixture.

"Bottoms up," he joked teasingly as he chinked their two glasses together softly. Granger smiled, but looked a bit apprehensive as they each raised the potion to their lips.

Draco's first thought upon drinking it was that he might actually vomit. Well no actually, his very first thought was just '_holy fucking christ…'_

But eventually the effects of the potion began to overwhelm any of his other senses. He felt his whole body shifting in what was surely the most surreal experience of his life. His skin crawled and his bones stretched until he felt like he was floating above his own body, watching it being transfigured by some clumsy child with a wand. He stared down in horror at his hands as the skin grew a little darker with a faint tan and the skin became more callused. Oddest of all was the way his mouth felt shifting around a new set of teeth, pressed against his new lips in weird and uncomfortable places.

Eventually the squirming, prickling feeling ceased and he found himself staring dizzily down at a body that was definitely not his own. He blinked in surprise and inspected himself closely, making sure there was nothing wrong or missing.

"This feels…weird," a strange feminine voice murmured and he looked up to see Granger doing the same. She was even pressing her fingers against her new teeth with a puzzled frown like him. At least, he assumed it was still Granger in there somewhere. Her appearance was rather unsettling. She had short cropped, dark blond hair that fell down straight to just below her ears, an upturned button nose and pale blue eyes. In that moment Draco felt an odd stray thought enter his mind and it made him pause. As his eyes wandered up and down over her polyjuiced form, he couldn't help feeling in his gut that it looked wrong on her. The blue eyes were pretty certainly, he supposed, but they had nothing on hers_. _Granger's normally dark brown eyes were remarkable. In all their years at school together, he hadn't ever really noticed them until that night in the hospital wing when she had stood over him, treating him with such care and compassion. He remembered the way she spoke to him soothingly, and the feeling of both her hand and a warm compress resting on his forehead. But mostly when he thought back on that night, he remembered her eyes. They were such a dark shade of brown that they looked like bottomless pools he could have fallen into. Not even a speck of colour or light tinged them or spoiled the weight of her steady, gentle gaze.

He realised Granger was cocking her head and frowning at him and quickly returned his focus to the polyjuiced witch in front of him, pushing these troubling thoughts away.

"Huh what?" he mumbled in confusion, wondering if she'd said anything he'd missed.

"I asked if you're okay. You seem muddled."

"Nope. All good," he lied, "It just feels really bizarre. I was trying to figure out if you'd fudged the potion."

Granger chuckled.

"Pff. As if. I've learned the hard way to be extra careful with polyjuice."

He shrugged in acceptance, wondering vaguely when she'd made it before and what could possibly have gone wrong. She was clearly speaking from experience. Granger cleared her throat and commented with a low chuckle,

"You look…er…shorter."

Draco frowned and sidled over to catch a glimpse in the rusted, cloudy mirror hanging askew in the back of the bedroom door. He was indeed not as tall as usual, but admitted rather reluctantly that this new body was fairly handsome. He had a strong jaw with brunette, wavy hair and tanned skin. And although he was not as lithe or muscular as usual, he felt strong and broad shouldered.

"Not bad," he murmured to himself with a shrug, approving of her potions work, "How long will it last?"

Granger shrugged.

"About an hour. We'd better get going."

Draco nodded and pocketed his wand, as Granger slipped her beaded bag into the inner pocket of her coat. He was about to follow her dark blonde head out the door when she turned and gave him an exasperated look. The expression looked kind of weird on this new face.

"Malfoy…"

"What?" he snapped, uncomfortable with her scrutiny.

"You'll have to try and stop sneering like you've got a bad smell under your nose. It's a rather distinctive tell. The death eaters won't need to track your dark mark if you just keep looking like a snobby little pureblood."

As she spun away from him to descend the staircase, Draco's reply was to stick his tongue out at the back of her head, grumbling about insufferable Gryffindors as he trudged down after her.

…

…

…

**For once I decided not to leave a terrible cliff hanger this time. Just a shopping trip, nothing catastrophic haha... ****_yet_****. Please leave your lovely reviews to inspire me!**


	5. Chapter Five

**Glad to see people got a thrill from Kingsley's double role as a villain! We'll pop back in to see what's going on there later, but for now I think we need some more Draco and Hermione growth. Onwards!**

**As always, JKR is the chief writer, I'm just the borrower.**

**…**

**Chapter Five**

By the time they left the bookshop, Hermione was painfully aware that their polyjuice potion would be running out soon. There was already a slightly uncomfortable, squirming feeling beneath her skin that signalled she would be transforming soon, maybe in another ten minutes or so. She sent a glance over her shoulder at Malfoy, or rather the strangely conceited looking muggle boy with brown hair who was carrying a stack of texts in his sturdy arms. It was odd seeing him in a different body. That haughty, cool expression looked almost wrong on someone else's face. I was much better suited to his usual sharp, pointed features. Her eyes dropped to the books he was carrying. They'd had _some _success, she reflected, though maybe not as much as she'd wished for. A couple of tomes had been buried in a section on blood charms that she thought might shed some light on the way people could be linked together. Enough to make a start at least.

There had been an anxious moment when they'd first entered the shop almost an hour earlier. Hermione had been there on numerous occasions in the past; whiling away the hours on those long Hogsmeade days by hiding herself in a corner and reading. So the owner knew her quite well. Obviously it was silly to think that he'd recognise her when she was wearing a completely different body, but there had still been that flutter of nerves as the door to the store opened with the jingling of a small bell. But she needn't have worried. Tobias Torin, the bookkeeper, had been polite and courteous as always, but showed no particular signs of recognition.

She had to stifle a chuckle as she remembered a moment earlier when the elderly man had inquired about their names, as he'd never seen them in the shop before. Malfoy had almost choked with rage as she'd cheerfully introduced them as _'Penelope and Neville from Cornwall'_. His temporary muggle face had turned positively crimson with horror at her choice.

She was still chuckling as they passed the post office, and as Malfoy caught up to her she caught a glimpse of the sullen frown on his face.

"Is everything okay, Neville?" she asked innocently, a cheeky grin on her face. It felt odd smiling with somebody else's lips.

"You're going to regret that," he warned her in a grumpy undertone, but it lacked the bite of his threats from when they were younger, and his only action was to scuff a rock along the ground with his shoe.

"On the bright side," she told him chirpily, "it looks like Tobias might order some new books in on connective charms. He said he knew a distributor in Paris who had a rather interesting collection on the subject."

Malfoy grumbled something under his breath she couldn't hear.

"What was that?" she asked him with a teasing smirk.

"I said you've gone barmy! It's not like we can just learn French in a few days and I'm hopeless at translation spells."

Hermione chuckled and nudged him with her shoulder. The contact felt odd, especially when they were in different bodies.

"_Mais je parle un peu de français… un petit peu_. _Assez bon pour lire un texte facile."_

Malfoy rolled his eyes, letting out a long groan.

"Of course you speak French. Could you be any more insufferable?"

"My parents used to attend conferences in France every summer," she explained, "We'd always holiday there. So learning it was useful, and I had to find _something_ to do to occupy myself while they were busy every day."

"You and I have _very_ different memories of holidaying in France."

Hermione shook her head as they both subtly stepped to the right of the footpath and down a side street. She could only imagine the decadent Parisian trips the Malfoys probably took together as a family. It made her all the more aware of the circumstances he now found himself in. Back at the bookshop, he had started to reach automatically into his pocket for his wallet to pay for their purchases, something he was probably more than used to doing. But then he'd paused, a frown on his face, as he'd realised he longer had any money. She reminded herself that this was all totally outside his normal experience. For the spoilt Malfoy brat to suddenly find himself with no inheritance to throw around, no mansions or servants to cater to his every whim, or world-class broomsticks at his disposal…well, it must be jarring for him, she thought.

"When this is all over, I'm gonna pay you back, Granger-" he began, a bit of an embarrassed flush on his face as they walked side by side down the narrow alley. She just shrugged casually, not really worrying too much. The books had been fairly affordable and she'd withdrawn all her money from the muggle savings accounts her parents had once set up for her after she'd wiped their memories. She knew she had enough funds to get by for a while.

"It's fine," she assured him, "It wasn't much."

"That's not the point. Once I can access my money again I'm perfectly capable of reimbursing you…"

"But the books were _my _idea."

"Yes, for _my _benefit."

Hermione sighed and let it drop. She didn't want to injure his pride, but she couldn't help wondering whether he'd even have any inheritance left at all after what had happened. Once his family discovered he had abandoned them, surely they'd disown him or something.

"Fine. But I'm charging you interest," she joked, trying to lighten the mood. She heard him start to chuckle before out of nowhere he just froze. The small stack of books clattered loudly onto the cobblestones below. Hermione's heart skipped as she turned to stare at him in concern. Without warning, his eyes had suddenly become wide and glassy. Malfoy gripped his forearm and hissed.

"Bloody fucking hell," he growled, slumping against the alley wall and holding his arm close to his body as his face turned ashen white.

"What is it?" she asked him urgently, clasping her beaded bag close to her chest, "What's happening?"

"It feels like I'm being summoned," he muttered through gritted teeth, "but different. It hurts so much…"

Hermione blinked in stunned indecision. She let her gaze pass up and down over him quickly. But there was nothing else wrong with him apart from the obvious pain he was suffering from. He hastily pushed up his sleeve in disbelief, and they both stared at his arm.

"What…I don't…"

She stammered in confusion. His arm was still tanned and sturdier, the arm belonging to the muggle boy Hermione had taken the hair from. There was nothing there to indicate why he was still feeling the phantom presence of his dark mark.

"Shit…" he gasped, his whole arm jerking and twitching as the pain intensified. How was this happening?

Then his arm started shifting. Hermione watched in shock as the skin turned pale and the muscles thinned out into a more lithe form. The soft hairs on his forearm slowly faded from brown into a light blond colour. She grasped him gently and turned his arm around as it transformed, and sure enough there it was. The jet-black ink of the dark mark trickled up from his wrist, moulding itself into the skull and serpent that was so frighteningly familiar. Malfoy groaned in pain as it burned itself back into his skin. He was starting to change back too early.

"We need to get back to the Hog's Head. Now."

Her voice was panicked, but it still took her physically grasping his hand in hers to get Malfoy's attention. He was too distracted staring in horror down at his arm.

"_Malfoy-"_

"Right. Yes."

He leaned down to hurriedly scoop up the books that had toppled to the pavement. Then she tugged him along and together they raced hand in hand towards the pub down one end of the small village. Their feet pounded along the stone ground beneath them and their breaths panted in sync. All she could think of was getting inside, staying hidden, and protecting themselves within the boundaries of Aberforth's surprisingly powerful wards.

But as they both entered the seedy establishment, clinging to each other and the precious books they'd bought, they were unaware of the person watching them from afar. The dark, piercing gaze of the man followed them as they rushed inside. His eyes traced over the ominous black shape imprinted in stark contrast to the boy's pale skin on his arm.

And he knew instantly what he was seeing.

Draco Malfoy was in Hogsmeade.

…

…

…

When Draco woke up, it was dark outside. Twilight had fallen and left a chill in the air, especially up in the rafters of their little attic room. He shivered and huddled further under the covers, as his sluggish mind tried to piece together what had happened. He remembered the two of them racing back to the pub, hands clasped tightly together. His arm had been on fire as the summons forced his body to transform back into his regular form, even though the Polyjuice potion hadn't quite reached the end of its normal duration. Granger had still been in the body of that muggle girl by the time they made it back upstairs. The summons must have triggered the change earlier than usual.

It had been agony. The pain in his arm had echoed across every nerve ending in his body until he grew shaky and weak. He'd never felt a summons like that before. The beady eyes of Aberforth had watched them suspiciously as they slipped through the back of the taproom, the old man clearly unhappy about their dramatic entrance.

He remembered being half dragged upstairs before collapsing onto the bed in a sweaty mess. Granger had been helplessly trying to support his heavier body as she lowered him down, murmuring words of encouragement. Then the pain had suddenly vanished as quickly as it had started, and he'd been left trembling and exhausted on the bed. And that was all he remembered. Which didn't explain how he had gotten underneath the covers, he realised as he rubbed the dryness from his eyes. Nor did it explain why he was no longer wearing shoes.

Draco sat up quickly, his head spinning a bit as he looked around. He spotted Granger instantly, sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed, her head buried in a book. It was one of the tomes on curses they had purchased earlier. It was such a familiar sight that he almost smiled to himself. Seeing Granger absorbed in full-on study mode gave him a twinge of something underneath his ribcage that might have been nostalgia.

She must have removed his shoes and tucked him in, he realised sourly. He wasn't overly thrilled with the idea that she had seen him in such a moment of weakness. But then again it wasn't the first time this kind of thing had happened between them, and it's not like she was the kind of person to use it against him later.

Draco watched her silently for a bit as he regained control of his senses. Her hair had half fallen out of that bun into a messy pile on top of her head with several strands hanging down around her face. A few curls brushed against the pages of the book, which was virtually pressed up against her nose. He was relieved to see she had returned to normal. Her brown eyes were narrowed in concentration and a muscle in her jaw would clench every so often as she encountered something interesting, almost as if she were stifling a smile of pure academic fascination. Eventually he cleared his throat and her head shot upright in surprise.

"You're awake," she exclaimed, closing the book while holding one finger in between the pages to keep her place.

"How perceptive of you," he mocked in reply, running his hands through his hair and shifting to sit upright against the headboard. Granger just rolled her eyes and turned her body to face him, her gaze running worriedly over his clammy form.

"Are you alright?" she asked him in a sort of composed, professional tone, "Are you in any pain?"

Draco considered the question for a moment, flexing his arm where the dark mark looked blacker and more insidious than before. There was a slightly angry red tinge around the edges too.

"It feels… weird. Like my skin is being pulled too tight. And there's a dull ache right up the length of my arm."

"What happened?" she asked him seriously, "You said it felt like a summons…?"

"It did. I think either the Dark Lord or someone else was using it to call me. But since I'm obviously not responding they may have exerted more _force_ than normal. Like a demand to get my attention."

Granger hummed and cocked her head to one side, looking down at the mark on his arm with open curiosity.

"What's interesting is that the mark is clearly tied to your magic somehow," she mused, a small crease appearing between her brows, "You still felt it even though you were in a different body. So it clearly runs deeper than just its physical form."

Draco nodded in agreement at her words, absorbing them slowly. He stared down at the black skull and serpent symbol on his arm in disgust. The sight made him shiver and he shifted restlessly against the headboard.

"Oh! I almost forgot-"

Granger reached across to the side table and fetched a rectangular silver and blue packet. She held it out to him with a soft smile, "Here."

"What is it?" he mumbled, narrowing his eyes at the object even as he took it cautiously from her hand.

"Medicinal chocolate," she explained and he looked down at it curiously, reading the elegant, cursive writing on the packet as she continued, "Aberforth brought it up. He pretended that it was a big inconvenience but I could tell that he was worried about you."

Draco snorted and tore one end of the packet open. He snapped off a piece and set it on his tongue. The instant warmth that infused his whole body as it melted was an enormous relief to his chilled nerves. He felt himself flush pleasantly as his shivering gradually ceased.

"Better?"

"Much," he murmured, swallowing his mouthful.

"Malfoy... can I ask you a few questions?" Granger asked him hesitantly as he finished the chocolate, putting the packet to one side.

"What kind of questions?" he asked sceptically.

"Well, the thing is, I was reading about blood connections while you were sleeping. And I was hoping to find out more about your mark."

He winced a bit, dreading the kinds of things he might be forced to confront, or what moments from his past he would need to expose. But once again he decided to trust Granger; he begrudgingly admitted that she probably didn't have a spiteful bone in her body. And she was trying to help him, after all.

"Okay," he replied slowly after a somewhat awkward pause while he thought about it, "What do you want to know?"

Granger smiled encouragingly at him and swung her legs around to rest her chin on her knees.

"I wondered if you could tell me more about the day you got it. What did the ritual involve and what can you remember of the spell itself?"

Draco sighed and scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. The witch waited patiently, her big brown eyes conveying something tender he couldn't put a name to. Maybe it was sympathy or maybe concern. He wasn't sure he'd ever had such focused, caring attention directed at him in his life. He cleared his throat, rallying his courage for her.

"There was a ceremony…" he began, his voice croaking weakly, "My father needed to be punished for disappointing the Dark Lord somehow. He failed to get something, or fulfil some kind of task, I was never sure."

"Yes, I'm aware of what his task was," she told him with a grimace, and Draco shrugged in acceptance. He'd always known their little group was probably responsible for what had happened somehow.

"I figured you might have been involved. Anyway, after Lucius was put in Azkaban temporarily, I was pretty much thrown in the deep end almost straight away, without a chance to really absorb what was happening. I found myself being paraded in front of the Dark Lord like the proverbial lamb to the slaughter. One night there were all these people at the manor gathered together. The Dark Lord brought me in front of them and told me to kneel before him. I was fucking terrified. He used his wand to make a long cut down my forearm until I was bleeding everywhere. I remember it dripping onto the carpets. Then he cast some kind of spell that made my blood feel like it was on fire. The skin on my arm started to heal and knit together."

"What did the spell look like? Was there anything distinctive about it?" Granger asked, and he was privately glad that she was being so clinical about it.

"It had a sort of black tinge right from the start... It felt like it lasted for hours and was pure agony. I've never felt pain like it, not even after Potter hexed me in two that night at Hogwarts. And then the black just sort of seeped into my skin, like it was crawling through my veins as it slowly morphed into the dark mark. It felt like a hundred needles burrowing into my flesh. I remember crying and pleading for it to end, but Bellatrix kept yelling at me to stop snivelling and take it like a man. The other death eaters just laughed at me…"

His voice broke a little and he looked down at his hands in shame. The dark mark was still bared on his arm for them both to see. As he looked down on it he felt a wave of nausea at the memories it evoked. He _hated_ it.

Draco felt the bed move slightly underneath him and his eyes darted up to watch in surprise as Granger scooted closer. He lost himself in her brown eyes as she gazed at him in concern.

"May I?" she asked and he flinched as he realised what her intention was. He nodded, both dreading and anticipating what he thought she was about to do. And sure enough, the curly haired witch extended a hand slowly, almost warily, towards him. At first her fingers brushed over the back of his hand and he winced a bit at the contact. Then her whole palm connected gently with his wrist in what could only be described as a tender hold. Before yesterday Granger had only ever touched him twice throughout their long history; once when she'd slapped him hard across the face (he'd probably deserved it in hindsight) and then again that night in the hospital wing. But this was different. For starters he was more _conscious _this time and there was no adrenalin fuelling their actions. He swallowed a bit and had to stop himself from squirming where he sat. It was silly, but he'd spent so many years despising this girl and so much energy willing himself to think of her as beneath him, that it had taken a lot of time and effort to let down those walls. He had eventually, but in doing so his perception of her had gradually changed.

Now that he was no longer a stupid, naïve child, there was no denying that she was one hell of a powerful witch. All those foolish thoughts from his early years at Hogwarts had disintegrated with age and after prolonged exposure to the sheer force of her personality and capabilities. It had helped being away from the vicious tongue of his father for so much of the year too. But he'd never really allowed himself to stop for too long and think about her as an actual person. She'd been an annoying little mudblood at first, and then had later grown into some kind of fucked up symbol of his father's lies; like she was the living, breathing proof that his father was wrong and that Draco was justified for hating him. Hermione Granger had become twisted in his mind into this mythic icon of his own character reform. She represented the very crux of his change in beliefs. Because how could he continue to follow in the shadow of his father's footsteps as long as someone like her existed in their world? But now she was sitting next to him on a mouldy old bed in an attic and he was spilling his darkest secrets to her. And she was touching him.

It was too surreal. He actually barely knew the witch sitting in front of him. He wasn't entirely sure if he even liked her. Half the time he was around her she made him so…angry! But oh Merlin, touching her was like setting fire to a pile of frayed straw and watching it burn. He was feeling odd, enflamed somehow but so very confused. Draco almost moved to pull away but then her hand moved gently, turning his wrist over and lifting his arm so that she could examine his dark mark more closely. His mouth went dry. He'd never seen such focused attention before. She prodded the skin almost nervously, her eyes darting up to his to check she hadn't hurt him.

"It doesn't…?" she began, her tone worried.

"No," he reassured her quietly, "It's just sort of tingling now."

She nodded to herself and then returned to her study of the mark. After a while, much to Draco's horror, she actually lifted one finger to carefully trace over the writhing curve of the snake's body. He shuddered.

"That's weird," she mumbled so quietly he almost didn't hear her, "I can almost… _feel _it."

Draco blinked in surprise, his steely grey eyes meeting hers as they stared at each other, sitting closer than he'd ever been to her before.

"Uh…really?" he croaked, desperately wanting to pull his arm away but at the same time yearning for her to keep stroking it. Where was this coming from?

"Yeh, there's something there," she continued, and her finger kept gliding across his skin as she observed it thoughtfully, "a sort of tremor of darkness in your magic. Like something coarse or rough..."

"Is it just the mark or…is it _me?_" he asked a bit worriedly, wondering uneasily whether Lucius really had cursed him to live his life as something evil. Something he couldn't escape. Granger pondered his question. Her eyes flicked up to his fretfully again. Then her hand moved, down over his wrist. She traced the lines on his palm indolently before stroking along the length of his fingers. Draco let out a shuddering breath as his body tensed all over as if hit by an electric shock.

What was happening to him?

His mind frantically sought through all his memories, searching out times when he'd been touched like this, in such a delicate manner. As he rifled through his past he panicked when he found himself at a loss.

_I can't have… there must be something…_

Draco winced as he ran through a list of all the people he knew. Lucius was certainly not an option. He'd never received even a single kind word from the man let alone a fatherly hug or a proud hand on the shoulder. Nothing. The only time his father had ever touched him had been in anger with that stupid cane of his. His mother wasn't much better. She was so…austere. So cold. He could still remember as a young child being scolded for wrapping his arms around her legs when he'd felt shy around new guests.

_Enough. Stand upright, Draco and stop slouching around. You're a Malfoy._

His friends at school weren't exactly affectionate either. Crabbe and Goyle had been no more than thugs and the very thought of Pansy Parkinson being gentle with him made him recoil in disgust. Apart from the occasional linked arms or one stilted dance at the Yule Ball, she'd only ever used him for show, chasing after him with greater and greater desperation as she sought status and power.

That was when it hit him. The depressing realisation made him tremble as Granger moved her hand to his arm above the mark where the skin was smooth and unblemished, testing the traces of magic there.

It was both simple and tragic. He had _never_ been touched like this before. With the notable exception of that night in the hospital wing not one person in his life had touched him with anything that remotely resembled affection. Draco felt a slight prickling behind his eyes and he grit his teeth together hard. He stared down at Granger's dainty fingers as they skimmed lightly over the sensitive skin of his inner arm just above the top of the skull.

The sensation was foreign to him, he understood that now. And yet it made him feel such an intense jumble of things he couldn't even name them all. Beneath all of that was the awareness that he didn't want it to stop. He longed for her fingers to keep touching his arm. Even if she was an annoying, bossy little pain in the ass, sweet Salazar her touch was wonderful.

"I can't feel anything on either side here or here," she explained to him with a studious expression, her lips pursed and her big brown eyes focused down at his arm where they were still connected, "your hand and your arm above the elbow feel totally normal. But there's definitely something there, right where the mark is imprinted."

He nodded numbly.

"It must be from whatever spell the Dark Lord used."

"What does it feel like when you're summoned?"

Granger's hand had come to a stop, just resting motionless on his arm as her brain worked furiously through the problem, not even paying attention to where she was touching him. Against his will, Draco's arm twitched restlessly, wishing that she'd continue.

"It burns and feels hot all over. But it's not usually as painful as before."

His arm jerked a bit again impatiently, noticeably this time, and he watched in trepidation as Granger's eyes widened.

"Is it okay now? Have I hurt you?" she asked, clearly appalled at the idea that she might have made something worse. She went to remove her hand but some force drove him to grab onto her fingers, his throat clenching convulsively as he felt his mouth go dry.

"No. It actually…uh…"

"What?"

He cleared his throat awkwardly, losing his nerve and mentally slapping himself. He hung his head and grimaced, embarrassed.

"Nothing," he muttered.

Granger was quiet for a long time, long enough that he released her abruptly and started to curse himself for being a monumentally stupid fool. Then after a while she made a quiet humming sound as though she'd just realised something. Slowly, her fingers started to move over the shape of his dark mark again.

"Does it um…feel better when I…?"

Draco wasn't sure what to say. He didn't want it to stop but at the same time he hated looking weak. He figured she probably thought he was in pain and she was helping to alleviate it. But really all he knew was that his skin was hungry for her touch, starved for it. So eventually he decided to follow along with the lie.

"Yeh. That… uh…that helps... the pain…"

He didn't even care in that moment if she thought she was just being a good healer, he didn't want it to end. A couple of minutes passed in tense silence, with Granger inspecting his arm and tracing his dark mark as her mind puzzled its way through the problem of what to do about it. Draco was just quietly absorbed in the feeling of being caressed by caring, gentle fingertips as though his skin had just woken up after a lifetime of being trapped in some kind of coma.

After a while Granger spoke again.

"I have an idea," she murmured, applying more pressure to her touch as she circled the perimeter of the mark, "I started thinking about it when I was reading those new books. There's a spell in one about disillusionment charms, but how to use them for concealing magic instead of just physical appearance."

Draco nodded along to what she was saying, half his attention on her words and half on the fingers still stroking his skin.

"It's only a temporary solution, and might not even work, but it would be a good start."

"Okay. What do you need?" he asked.

"Um…well…"

She looked nervous and Draco cocked his head to one side.

"What?"

"Well…it's a spell. So I'd need a wand."

He blinked and looked at her in surprise. Her cheeks were a bit flushed and her gaze darted almost imperceptibly towards the bedside table where his own wand was sitting. Draco felt a slight twinge of anxiety, but then he looked back at Granger and saw the genuine desire to help shining from her dark brown gaze. He swallowed, knowing how private most witches and wizards could be about their wands, but also knowing that their situation was a unique one.

"You can use mine," he told her quietly.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," he told her with a casual shrug, trying not to make a big deal out of it.

"Alright then. Obviously we can't do it here. Aberforth would kill us if the dodgy wards he's set up hadn't already done the job."

"Downstairs?"

"We can get some food from the larder and do it down there," she suggested. Draco nodded, but didn't want to be the first one to move and break the contact between them.

"Deal," he muttered, but remained sitting still on the bed as Granger's hand moved over him soothingly. Eventually she pulled away, her fingers hovering tentatively over him. Draco's skin ached from the emptiness her touch had left behind. He wondered madly whether she'd done something to him, opened up some kind of floodgate left over from the cruel detachment of his childhood. Maybe she'd revealed some deeply buried need for human contact he'd never be able to fulfil again without her. It certainly explained why he'd never been able to fully let go of that night in the hospital wing.

"Let me know if it hurts again, okay?" she told him in a worried tone, and he nodded numbly, too cowardly to tell her that actually it hadn't been hurting that badly to begin with. He'd just liked what she'd been doing. But there was no way he was going to reveal that.

"Shall we?" he gestured instead towards the door and scooped his wand up from the bedside table. Granger smiled and grabbed the book she'd been reading when he woke up earlier. Together they made their way down the stairs into the back rooms of the pub, the low rumble of voices coming from the taproom masking the creaking of their footsteps as they descended.

"You ready Neville?" she whispered with a cheeky grin as they approached the larder, flicking through the book until she found the spell she'd been reading about before. Draco glared at her in response, his hand tightening its grip on his wand.

"Remind me when this is all over to hex you. I believe eating slugs would be a suitable revenge."

"I'd just vomit them up onto your pristine pureblood shoes, git."

"At least it'd shut you up for a few minutes," he grumbled in reply as they snuck side by side towards the dark room where Aberforth kept his bounty of food. After their strange interaction up in the attic room, he breathed a sigh of relief that they were back to bickering once more. Bickering he could deal with. Everything else made him feel way out of his depth and a little bit nauseous.

And yet, he realised gloomily as they closed the door behind them, he was a goner anyway no matter what. Because he badly wanted her to do it again.

…

…

**Some pretty heavy angst going on. Take a breather. And leave me glorious reviews so I write faster!**


	6. Chapter Six

**Back again! Thank you to all for your encouraging reviews.**

**Time to help Draco out with his dark mark and much more slow and steady progress between them too! Hope you enjoy this new offering. As always, it's JKR who crafted this world!**

**Chapter Six**

**…**

It was extremely strange using a wand that wasn't her own, Hermione mused as she looked down nervously at the slim piece of wood in her hand. The hawthorn length was quite pliant and felt warm against her palm, but she'd been using the same one since she turned eleven, so it was only natural that it felt out of place. She was surprised by how patient and docile Malfoy's behaviour had been. He was sitting, perched on a crate in the larder, breathing slowly in and out as she performed the spell on his arm.

"Almost done," she murmured, tracing over the mark once more as she repeated the spell and concentrated on the right movement. He just nodded, seemingly distracted watching his arm with undisguised interest. His eyes followed the motion of the wand as though mesmerised. Finally she was done and she let out a long sigh.

"How does it feel?" she asked him curiously, lifting his arm up by the wrist to inspect it. Malfoy visibly swallowed.

"Fine…I can't feel anything, really."

"Good," she answered with a smile, a trickle of relief passing through her. Maybe it really had worked. It was only a temporary solution, but it would hopefully buy them time to find something more permanent. The modified disillusionment charm worked to disguise magical signatures in the same way the regular charm concealed one's physical presence. It was just a guess, but she thought it might act to muffle the aura of his magic from those trying to locate him using certain blood spells. It was one hell of a charm, she realised, feeling drowsy as she sat back and gave herself a mental pat on the back. They'd already eaten a quiet meal together in the room before she'd attempted the charm, so all she wanted to do now was wash her weary face in warm water and go to bed.

"Are _you _alright?" he asked in a slightly worried voice.

"Oh yes, just getting sleepy. That was really draining…"

Malfoy nodded, smirking at her as he rubbed absentmindedly at his forearm.

"I'm not carrying you up the bloody stairs, Granger, so you'd better pull it together," he warned teasingly and she chuckled.

"Fair enough," she agreed, before returning his wand to him, presenting it hilt first. Malfoy took it hesitantly, seeming to sigh a bit in relief once it was back in his hand. She knew the feeling. Her heart clenched in sadness as she mourned the loss of her own wand. It had been like another limb. The day her parents had taken her to Ollivander's to buy it, everything had just fallen into place. For the first time in her life she had felt like she belonged. Hermione closed her eyes briefly as she realised she had no idea where or how she might get a new one.

"Come on drowsy, take this-" Malfoy grumbled and her eyes opened again to see him holding out a small piece of chocolate left over from the packet that Aberforth had given her. She blinked at it, taken aback by his kindness for a moment, before accepting it with a grateful smile. The chocolate warmed her from the inside out, lifting her tired spirits.

"Thank you," she mumbled around the mouthful of chocolate, but Malfoy was already busy doing other things. She watched him cast a few refreshing charms on his clothes and hair. Then he rifled through the crates on their left, triumphantly drawing out a dusty old bottle of fire whiskey.

"Seriously?" she asked him dryly. Malfoy smiled cheekily.

"Just in case. For emergencies," he defended himself, brushing dust off the label and inspecting it with interest.

"You're such a brat," she told him, spinning around and heading back out the doorway of the larder where she moved towards the staircase. She heard his footsteps following behind her as they climbed to their room. Malfoy hid the bottle in one of the drawers up there while Hermione used the bathroom. She splashed her face and made herself more comfortable, taking a deep breath as she examined her wild hair in the mirror.

_It's a lost cause…_

She'd had a quick, lukewarm shower earlier, standing up in the rusty bathtub and washing herself as thoroughly as possible while Malfoy slept. But with no proper hairdryer or styling charms her hair had dried into great big bird's nest of curls. Hermione sighed and got to work, crossing the hair back and forth into a tight braid that fell down over one shoulder, before tying it off with an elastic. That would have to do, she grumbled to herself as she returned to the bedroom. She checked her galleon once more as she approached the bed, but the gold coin remained unchanged. Surely if Harry had seen and understood her message he would have found a way to reply, she thought. She pushed it from her mind, too tired to worry about it now. The effects of the medicinal chocolate were wearing off and she felt her eyelids begin to droop sleepily.

Once they were both ready for bed the same awkwardness settled over the room as the previous night. They had placed one candle on the bedside table and it flickered down low, casting its orange glow over the room. Hermione stood there on what she supposed was now _her _side of the bed, watching nervously as they both waited for the other to ease in under the covers. It was just as awkward as the night before. Finally the two of them both chuckled self-consciously. They slid under the blankets at the same time.

"Is your arm still feeling okay? No change?" Hermione asked as they sat propped half upright in the bed. She watched Malfoy's eyes widen as he glanced down at his arm where the dark mark was. He seemed to be waging an inner battle over something. His gaze was conflicted and kept darting between her face and his arm rapidly as if trying to come to a decision.

"Does it hurt?" she prompted, not sure how the charm she had done would interact with the older, more insidious magic of the mark. Malfoy scowled down at his arm, clearly struggling with himself. Eventually he worked up the courage to answer her question, his hand clenched into a fist as he spoke in a husky voice.

"It…it hurts… a bit. Like before."

Hermione nodded patiently, knowing he'd been through a lot. It must be frightening to have something so menacing embedded in one's magic. She hesitantly reached out with her hand, resting it non-threateningly on the mattress between them.

"Do you want me to…?" she began, remembering how he'd told her it had helped earlier, when she'd touched it. She wasn't sure the logical reason behind it or why such a simple thing would ease his pain, but there was no denying it had soothed him. Malfoy looked sort of heatedly at her, or maybe he was angry with himself. She couldn't tell. The scowl on his face was dark and almost panicked. But eventually he offered his arm to her like before. Hermione took hold of him by the wrist and repeated the same pattern as before. She rubbed her fingers over the shape of the dark mark, stroking away any pain and massaging the tight skin there. Malfoy was completely silent, his eyes following her movements intently.

After a while she rested her head down fully on the pillow beneath her, continuing to caress him. Malfoy mirrored her position and they lay there side by side while she kneaded his arm. Her mind was a bit foggy with sleep and the rhythm of her movements was more than a little relaxing.

It was simply another strange, surreal moment between the young witch and wizard. Just another to add to the growing list of bizarre interactions that had altered the dynamics of their relationship, she mused.

As Hermione drifted off, her hand dropped and became boneless. It ended up resting heavily on top of his arm as her mind slipped away at last. Her last coherent thought was fuzzy and indistinct, as she wondered why Malfoy was still staring at his arm with such tense focus and with something that almost resembled disbelief…

…

…

…

Draco did continue to look down at his arm long after Granger's hand had begun to drop, heavy and unmoving, as she drifted into a deep sleep. His arm twitched as it remembered the phantom sensation of her caress. The touch made a strange spark of energy course through him, his nerves feeling stretched and raw. Just like earlier, her touch had been a balm to him, one he hadn't known he needed.

His skin still burned where her hand rested. When she'd asked him earlier if he was in any pain, all he'd been able to think about was the possibility that she might touch him again. So he'd lied. Again. He'd told her that it was hurting. Even now that she'd stopped stroking him, it still felt like her touch was etched into his skin around the dark mark.

Draco's mind battled with itself as he decided whether to slip into sleep or to keep staring at his arm, dwelling fretfully on what was happening to him. Would she keep doing it, he wondered. Would she touch him again if he asked? What would it feel like if she bestowed her unique, gentle touch somewhere else on his skin? But he was tired and after a while the choice was made for him, as his eyelids grew heavier. When he finally fell asleep, his mind was filled with visions, not of death eaters and blood rituals, but of tender caresses and soft, pale skin.

…

…

…

Their morning in Hogsmeade had started out fresh and new, as dappled summer light shone through the trees. But as the day progressed, clouds slowly started to gather over the small town. Hermione and her blond Slytherin companion had spent the morning helping Aberforth sort boxes of new stock into his basement storage room. They had promised, after all, to help out in return for his protection. The older man had barely spoken two words to them, just grunted to himself about nuisance guests as they shifted things around for him. But Hermione could tell that he was grateful for the help. He even showed some interest in her temporary solution to Malfoy's little problem when the two of them had been discussing it.

Later in the day Malfoy had undoubtedly started to go stir crazy trapped in the claustrophobic little pub. Frankly she was surprised that he'd lasted as long as he had. He clearly wasn't used to doing things like manual labour and having to clean up after himself. With a chuckle she had finally caved and agreed to go outside for some fresh air and space. Not wanting to waste any polyjuice potion, he cast a glamour over them both so that they wouldn't be noticed as they ran the short distance to the nearby forest. There the trees skirted around the perimeter of the property where the shrieking shack stood. The area was generally desolate and empty of people thanks to stories about the haunted house. They would be safe away from any prying eyes.

Malfoy glared distrustfully up at the dilapidated building. She heard him muttering darkly about ghosts and spectres lurking around and chuckled.

"It's not haunted," she told him with a knowing smile.

"Bollocks. The place gives me the creeps."

"I'm serious! It's really not. Years ago when the villagers first thought the place was haunted, it was actually Remus Lupin transforming into a werewolf each month back when he attended Hogwarts."

Malfoy blinked at her for a moment, his mouth hanging half open.

"Wait… Lupin? That useless fool who taught us defence in third year?"

Hermione huffed, folding her arms over her chest.

"Professor Lupin was a perfectly competent teacher," she replied primly.

"Snape was better," he argued.

"I…well…he…."

"Hate him all you want, Granger, but you can't deny that in our sixth year Snape was a damn good defence teacher."

"He was certainly… efficient."

"He was the only decent teacher we had in defence. I actually learned something useful from him. Lupin was all show and no substance. I mean really, how often are we going to encounter grindylows in shallow, cold climate fresh water lakes and have to fight them off? What a fraud."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but found she didn't really have much evidence on her side. Unfortunately, Malfoy wasn't wrong. She _had _probably learned more practical skills from Snape than any other DADA teacher. She huffed reluctantly as Malfoy shot her a triumphant smirk.

"Yes well, excuse me if I don't join the Severus Snape fan club right now," she drawled. Malfoy leaned against the fence and smiled wryly at her.

"My godfather is a complicated man. I wouldn't write him off yet. When it comes to Snape, things are never as they seem."

Hermione sighed, knowing that it was useless to argue. His words merely echoed things that she had already thought herself. Despite Harry's insistence about what he'd seen on the Astronomy Tower and the bitter reality of Dumbledore's death, there was just something suspicious about the whole situation. Given the history between them all, something didn't quite add up. The number of times he had proven himself seemed to be in direct contrast to the horror of his recent actions. She had _always _defended Professor Snape to Harry when her friend's paranoid doubts had gotten the better of him. Maybe their former teacher really was a liar and a sadistic murderer after all, but she just had a feeling there was more to it.

"Hmmm," she replied with a non-committal hum, smiling back at Malfoy as they both moved to lean against the fence at the edge of the property, looking quietly out at the derelict house, "Nothing would surprise me at this point," she told him quietly, "I've been puzzling over that whole situation more than you realise."

"Good. My godfather is a man of many mysteries. _Never_ judge him by what you see right in front of you."

"Noted."

The blond boy rested his chin on his hand and gazed out through the sparse copse of trees around them. They fell into a comfortable silence, both enjoying the fresh air of the forest. With the sun catching his blond hair just right, she thought he looked more like the slick, handsome boy she had known at school, rather than the bedraggled, desperate escapee on the run. The rain clouds were slowly rolling in above them, but neither one showed any inclination to move yet. After a while Malfoy spoke again.

"Do you miss it?" he asked, nodding towards the distant edges of the castle grounds. You couldn't see it, but you could almost feel its presence all around them. Hogwarts was like a beacon to those who knew it was there.

"A little," Hermione murmured slowly, tilting her head to the side as she gazed up at where the castle would be if it weren't hidden, "It's odd though… I spent six years dreaming of being Head Girl, as silly as that sounds. Now I'm not so sure that's what I'd even want if I ever returned."

"What? Don't be ridiculous!" Malfoy scoffed, "You'd have made the perfect Head Girl. I might not have been your biggest supporter over the years-"

"That's one way of putting it."

"- but you were destined for the job the moment you stepped foot inside Hogwarts."

"Seriously?" she asked sceptically.

"Well you _were_ a pretty formidable prefect. The teachers loved you. The students hated you. An ideal candidate for Head Girl."

Hermione chuckled, shaking her head as she turned to face Malfoy.

"But that was the problem! I've thought about it a lot this summer, you know. You're not the only one who's allowed to have deep personal insights about yourself. I realised I spent my whole school life trying to prove I was worthy, trying to be the best at everything, because it was all I had. But maybe I was just overcompensating for never really being able to develop genuine relationships with my peers."

"What about Potter and Weasel…?"

Hermione smiled fondly and shrugged.

"They're my best friends. But if it came down to it they'd always choose each other over me. I boss them around and look after them, and I know they resent me sometimes. But I actually envy _their_ friendship. I wish I had someone who was always in my corner unconditionally like that. But instead I just drive people away with my bookishness and my overbearing manner."

Malfoy considered her thoughtfully as she told him all this. Hermione inwardly scolded herself. Merlin only knew why she was spilling her heart out to the arrogant prat. But _he'd_ shared things with her he'd probably never revealed to another living soul, so it was only fair.

"Look, Granger," he muttered solemnly after a while, "I'm not exactly an expert on friendship or whatever. I don't actually have any friends. Never did. But it seems to me as though you shouldn't have to apologise for being smart. You shouldn't blame your lack of friends on your intelligence. If you and I hadn't been sorted into rival houses and I hadn't been a monumentally irritating and prejudiced little shit, then I feel like I would have _wanted _a friend like you. Someone who was powerful, strong, clever…" he cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to stare at the ground between them, "I just… I don't think you should have to compromise who you are to make people like you. Merlin knows _I_ learned that lesson the hard way."

Hermione didn't realise she'd begun to cry until she felt the first tear glide down her cheek. She impatiently brushed it away, turning to look out once more over the shrieking shack.

"That was one hell of a speech, Malfoy," she told him with a weak smile. He snorted and ran his hand nervously through his hair.

"Well it's true," he muttered, "You're not…as terrible as I thought you were, just so you know. Books and all."

Hermione smiled softly.

"And you're not the bigoted psychopath I thought _you _were," she replied airily, trying to lighten the mood.

"Gee thanks."

She laughed quietly once more and shuffled her feet against the coarse gravel of the path beneath them.

"You were referring to your father before, weren't you?" she asked him warily, not sure whether he'd throw a fit if she brought up his dad, but continuing boldly regardless, "When you said you'd learned that lesson the hard way. You meant that you compromised your own beliefs to make Lucius happy."

Malfoy nodded, kicking a stone glumly with the tip of one shoe.

"He wanted a perfect little copy of himself for a son, so that's what I became… and it took me longer than it should have to start thinking for myself."

Hermione tentatively reached up and rested her hand on Malfoy's shoulder. She felt him shudder and his whole body tensed up at the contact, even though there was a layer of clothing between them.

"No child should have to oppose their parents," she told him softly, "I'm sorry you've been put in that position. But I'm not sorry for the choices you've made. It took courage."

Malfoy grimaced and stared fiercely at the treeline in the distance, clearly grappling with his emotions. Eventually he shot her a lopsided smile.

"We sure are a pair of emotional fuck ups today, aren't we?" he joked.

"At least we're fucking up _together _and not alone, right?" she asked him in a shaky voice. She had never thought it possible that she'd actually come to appreciate Malfoy's company. That she'd rely on his support, especially given the sensitive topics they'd discussed. It was surreal but felt good. Hermione couldn't even remember the last time someone had just _listened _to her or trusted her with their inner thoughts. It felt kind of nice. The blond Slytherin boy chuckled in response and nudged her shoulder lightly with his.

"There's a hell frozen over somewhere that resembles this."

Hermione laughed too and nudged him back. She saw him wince a bit at the contact and it made her pause. With a slight frown she wondered whether there had been any change with his arm. It was quite possible that he was still experiencing pain when someone tried to summon him, even though his magical signature had been muffled and concealed from others outside.

"I should probably reapply the charms to your dark mark to make sure the glamour worked properly," she murmured as she looked over him with concern, "And hopefully we can get those books soon and find a way to fix it permanently."

"So eager to get back to your precious golden trio?" he asked in a haughty tone, but she could detect the hint of nervousness there too.

"Of course," she answered truthfully, "But they'll survive a few weeks without me, especially if they have Molly Weasley's wedding plans distracting them. What I'm _really_ eager for is making sure evil murdering death eaters don't hunt you down and kill you in your sleep. That takes priority right now."

"You sure know how to comfort a guy," he muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes at her words. Hermione snorted in amusement, before gesturing down at his covered forearm.

"If it's alright with you, I should do a full check up on your mark-"

"Okay," he interrupted quickly, nodding his assent before anxiously dropping his gaze to stare at the ground and freezing. He shut his mouth with a snap as if he was afraid he'd revealed too much. Hermione frowned at his willingness to let her help him. It seemed he'd not only accepted her involvement but was also keen to let her work on his arm. She remembered how he'd admitted that her touch had helped with the pain. Is that what he wanted? But before she could reply, the first droplets of rain began to fall. The clouds above them rumbled drowsily as they opened. Hermione gasped and peered upwards.

"Well there goes my hair," she grumbled, thinking morosely about how frizzy her curls would become if they got wet.

"Maybe we should…" Malfoy began, also blinking in surprise as the drops grew bigger and started to fall more quickly around them.

"Yes. We should," she agreed as the drizzle grew with each second until it was a proper downfall. Hermione squealed a bit as she felt herself getting drenched. It was a true summer rainfall; erratic and entirely unpredictable. As her hair and clothes grew heavy and saturated, she grabbed Malfoy's hand and pulled him in the direction of the village.

"Come on," she called through the drumming of the rain. Malfoy's eyes darted down to their joined hands, but nodded numbly as he followed her. They soon broke into a run as the rain chased them towards the Hog's Head. With everyone fleeing inside and nobody left on the streets, they didn't bother with a disillusionment charm, merely ducking their heads and sprinting towards the back entrance, getting out of the storm as quickly as possible.

For the second time in as many days, the dark gaze of a hidden observer followed their progress as they darted through the back door of the pub. The man remained huddled among the trees on the edge of the town, glaring intently at the young witch and wizard as they disappeared inside. Draco Malfoy was not going to get away with this, he thought to himself. Now _he_ was going to have to be the one to step in and do something about the boy once and for all…

…

…

…

Draco shivered in his wet clothes as he observed Granger quietly from his place on the bed. They'd been forced to sneak hurriedly upstairs when it became clear that the pub was too overcrowded for them to stay anywhere near the downstairs larder. The rain had driven more customers than usual inside for a stiff drink and the risk was too great.

But with no spells allowed up in the attic, he was stuck trembling in his cold, damp outfit. And to make matters worse he was trapped in the same room as a witch whose own clothes had been positively plastered to her body. He averted his gaze, annoyed at himself, as she rummaged in her little beaded bag for something.

"Um…you're not going to like this," she told him with a slight blush to her cheeks, "But I do actually have some dry clothes if you'd like to change…"

Draco looked at her warily for a long moment.

"What's the catch?"

She pulled out a pair of black jeans and a dark grey t-shirt, holding them out for his inspection.

"They're completely clean, unworn and will probably fit-"

"Granger!" he warned.

"Ummwell…theykindabelongedtoharry."

"_What _did you say?"

She sighed and gave him an exasperated look.

"They used to belong to Harry."

Draco blinked at her, a muscle in his jaw twitching with distaste.

"Hell no," he snapped coldly.

"Oh come on, Malfoy. They're a perfectly adequate replacement-"

"Nope. I'm not wearing Potter's cast offs! No way."

"You're soaking wet and need to change! Stop being so stubborn. It's not like anyone will know."

"_I'll_ know," he grumbled.

Granger huffed impatiently and stomped one foot on the ground.

"Just wear the damn clothes. Or do you really want to sit here dripping all day because of your stupid ego?"

Draco glared at her before letting his gaze drop to the clothes resting in her outstretched hand. At least they weren't ridiculously outlandish or, merlin forbid, in sappy Gryffindor colours.

"Fine," he growled, snatching them from her hand and basically stomping from the room. Once he'd firmly closed the bathroom door he looked down at the material with disgust. Of course she was carrying around spare clothes for Potter. Scar face probably couldn't even clean his own teeth without her telling him which end of the brush to put in his mouth. What a git. But at least Potter had the decency to wear dark tones, he thought grimly. Draco muttered angrily the whole time he was changing; reluctantly appreciating the warmth it brought to his chilled skin. The t-shirt was a bit too wide and hung loosely on his tall, slender frame, but the pants weren't so bad. At least they reached the ground, which was a surprise since he was actually a fair bit taller than Potter. Obviously the idiot wore clothes that were a couple of sizes too big for him.

Draco almost wanted to sulk in the bathroom for a bit longer, lingering over his reflection as he attempted to style his stringy, wet hair. But then he remembered what Granger had suggested before the clouds bucketed rain down on them earlier. She had started talking about doing a check up on his arm. That meant she would touch him.

With a jolt, Draco darted back towards the bedroom, wanting to feel that gentle touch against his skin again more than anything. He was craving it. He'd gone his whole life without that kind of touch and now he couldn't get enough. The harsh aggression of Lucius and the coldness of his mother had warped him into this pathetic boy who longed to be stroked and caressed by Granger of all people! But the shame of that need didn't slow him down. He hurriedly forced his way back through the rickety door and into the attic room, already imagining her touch on him.

"Oh!"

"Shit-"

Draco froze as he realised his error. He had changed so quickly that he probably should have thought ahead and given Granger more time in the bedroom. Her back was to him but she had turned her head at the sound of his entrance, looking a bit shocked. Her cheeks turned a light shade of pink with embarrassment. She wasn't undressed or anything. All he could see was the pale curve of her spine and the straps of her bra from the back as she hastily grabbed a fresh, dry shirt and threw it over her head. Draco didn't even have time to avert his gaze or turn around to give her some privacy. It wasn't that bad, he told himself, trying not to appear too flustered by the sight of so much of her smooth skin. Granger spun to face him, looking a little mortified, but he tried to smile reassuringly at her to ease the tension.

"Uh…Sorry-" he stammered, fiddling with the bottom of his oversized t-shirt. Granger seemed to brush it off, as though she was just happy to pretend it had never happened.

"That's okay. You look… odd. Very muggle."

"Oh great," he drawled sardonically, not letting his tone show _too_ much disdain like he might have in the past.

"They actually don't fit too badly," she commented thoughtfully, "Harry's clothes have always been a bit big for him. Hand-me-downs from his cousin. I've tried to teach him basic shrinking spells for clothes a hundred times but he never remembers to use them."

She was rambling a bit, but Draco didn't mind anymore. He was growing used to it. He liked the way her voice was always light and how she cleverly filled the silences he had grown to hate.

"They're…acceptable," he admitted at last. It was worth it when he saw her face brighten with a pleased smile.

"Would you like me to look at your arm now?"

Draco nodded nervously, feeling his throat go dry at the thought of what would happen soon if his wish came true. He had been thinking about this all day.

"Alright," he replied quietly, moving to sit on the bed, folding one of his long legs up under himself and resting his arm on the other leg. At the same time, Granger moved to sit cross-legged in front of him, fiddling with her slightly damp, braided hair.

"Does it hurt?"

Draco ignored the twinge of guilt he felt for lying as he answered her, nodding in the affirmative. He presented his arm to her, cursing himself for the way his muscles tensed and his whole body trembled with need.

Granger smiled at him in an encouraging, considerate way. She took his wrist in her hand and drew his arm towards her. Then she began her routine all over again and Draco was in heaven. Her fingers stroked up and down the dark mark, tracing the figure there more gently than he thought possible. It was an intensely addictive feeling, as he was continuing to discover.

"Better?"

"Uh…mmhhmm," he hummed in response, not daring to speak out loud in case it came out as a hoarse croak. Granger watched him almost curiously, as though examining his reactions as she kept rubbing his arm. He tried to hold a blank expression on his face, but couldn't exactly repress the look of pure hunger as his gaze traced her movements. Then something odd happened, something he wasn't expecting. Draco's breath froze in his lungs as her fingers absentmindedly circled up from his mark and to the skin of his upper arm above his elbow. This time he didn't dare question his luck. But he did reflect on the pleasure it brought him. Had he ever appreciated something for its softness before? Because her touch seemed too foreign to him, almost too gentle. Why did he even want it? If you'd asked him a few years ago he would have emulated his father and said that it was pathetic, emasculating even, to be craving the touch of a young woman. And not just any woman. Hermione Granger of all people.

_What is wrong with me? _He asked himself crossly, feeling confused and out of his depth. Her fingers tickled up his arm, drawing invisible patterns right up to the sleeve of his borrowed t-shirt. They dipped under the edge of the fabric once, and then again. It felt so stimulating every time she repeated the motion. In a fit of madness, Draco almost wished that he really was injured and in some kind of horrible agony, just so that she would help by touching him even more. Surely it would be worth it, he thought.

Then he belatedly noticed that Granger was frowning down at something. A small crease appeared on her forehead as she tilted her head to one side in concern.

"Um…Malfoy… what's that?" she asked him in a voice so quiet he almost didn't hear her. He was uncertain at first what she was referring to. Her stare was fixed on a spot just underneath his collarbone. The t-shirt was a bit baggy there and revealed the top of his chest. Granger tentatively reached her hand up and delicately touched the very tips of her fingers to something. It was a circular raised bump; one of his more recent scars that hadn't healed properly.

"Oh…" he exclaimed softly, "I…um…"

He had trouble focusing on what she was actually asking him because her finger was still stroking the skin just beneath where his neck and shoulder joined. If he thought that being touched gently on his arm was good, then the feel of her fingers brushing across his chest was positively electric. He had to stifle a groan. It was bliss. When Granger cleared her throat, his focus shot back to her and he remembered that she'd asked him a question.

"Lucius did it," he explained, trying to keep his attention on what he was saying and not drifting away on the simple pleasure of her touch, "I told him I didn't want to go on a raid about a month or two ago. I think it was the home of some muggleborn official from the ministry. Needless to say he wasn't happy with my refusal."

Granger stared at him in horror.

"How did he-" she started, looking a bit sick as if she already knew the answer.

"With a cigar," he told her huskily, feeling restless when her fingers paused their motions on his chest as she tried to deal with her shock, "he pressed the tip into my skin and wouldn't stop until I was… _sufficiently punished_ is the term I believe he used."

Draco let out an audible sigh of relief when her fingers finally started moving again after what felt like an age. Her expression was troubled but he could barely focus on it. His body felt alight with fire as she touched the skin all around his collarbone and chest where the shirt dipped down loosely. Then at one point her touch fell a little lower underneath the edge of the shirt and he actually visibly flinched. He couldn't help it. His skin was oversensitive and it had sent sudden, visceral sparks throughout his entire body. But Granger clearly thought she had hurt him. She went to jerk her hand away, her big brown eyes wide and filled with anxiety.

"I'm so sorry-"

Before she could move away, Draco grabbed her hand in his, his hold so tight there was no way she could move any further away from him. He wouldn't let her. His heart beat a frantic rhythm.

"Don't," he ordered, his tone desperate.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry," she repeated and Draco winced when he realised that she thought he was scolding her.

"_No!_" he corrected her urgently, without a thought for the consequences. All he wanted was for her to keep going. To keep her hands on him. "_Don't stop_."

…

…

…

**Yep, more cliff hangers. Sorry! Hope you enjoyed this – please leave your always appreciated reviews!**


	7. Chapter Seven

**Some new and interesting developments in this chapter. Looking forward to your reactions. As always, JKR is the original master.**

**Chapter Seven**

_Before she could move away, Draco grabbed her hand in his, his hold so tight there was no way she could move any further away from him. He wouldn't let her. His heart beat a frantic rhythm._

_ "__Don't," he ordered, his tone desperate._

_ "__I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry," she repeated and Draco winced when he realised that she thought he was scolding her._

_ "__No!" he corrected her urgently, without a thought for the consequences. All he wanted was for her to keep going. To keep her hands on him_.

_"__No! Don't stop."_

_…_

Hermione stared at the blond boy sitting taut and anxious in front of her. His whole demeanour was desperate as though he would wither away if she didn't keep her hold on him. She swallowed and observed him with confusion. Her pulse was racing.

"What do you mean?"

He didn't seem to be able to answer. Instead he just slowly drew her hand back towards his chest, his steely eyes terrified. When he pressed her fingers back onto his heated skin again, Hermione felt a jolt of nerves go through her. She blinked at him and studied his face carefully, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Malfoy, you're worrying me. What's wrong?"

"I…I want…"

He licked his lips, his face almost a sickly tinge of grey as he fretted about what to say. Hermione couldn't bear it. She quickly looked down at the sinewy muscles of his chest, running her thumb gently over the curve of his collarbone.

"Do you… _like _this?" she asked, not quite able to believe it, but it was really the only explanation. Eventually he nodded brusquely, not daring to meet her eye.

"Your mark, the pain…" she gestured to his arm, "You've been saying all that so I'll touch you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he croaked, but he didn't sound very convincing. In fact his voice was brittle and weak as though he might snap in half at any moment. Hermione closed her eyes for a second, knowing that she was on the precipice of something, some choice or action that would change everything. But seeing the haunted look on his face and feeling the warmth of his skin, so real and beautiful under her fingertips, she made her decision with barely a thought.

"Do you want me to keep going?" she asked in a nervous whisper, not quite believing she'd had the courage to even offer such a thing. Malfoy glanced up at her, and she saw the intensity in his gaze. The longing.

When he finally nodded his reply after a long, tense silence, she let her thumb brush over him again before her touch rose over his collarbone and up the length of his neck. Her fingertips just barely glided over his skin. Malfoy clenched his eyes shut and groaned just loud enough that she could hear it over the pattering of rain against the roof above them. His expression was slack and relaxed as he absorbed her touch. Hermione was amazed by the sensations she could seemingly provoke in him. She frowned at him, puzzled by the boy in front of her, sitting with his head tilted back and his soul bared open and raw before his former nemesis. It felt good to touch him like this. Her fingers burned with the desire to explore more of him and she flushed, embarrassed by her own thoughts.

"Has nobody ever…touched you like this…?" she guessed, keeping her voice low and calm so as not to startle him. Malfoy returned his focus to her face. He paused for a while, considering her thoughtfully. There was a look of mortification on his features, but also pleasure.

"No," he mumbled eventually, obviously stumbling to find the right words in response to her question, "I can't remember…I've never…"

"What about your parents?"

Malfoy snorted disdainfully, being careful not to move his head too much and risk losing her touch, which was currently tracing the curve of his neck.

"Not even when you were little?"

"No."

"What about…friends?"

"Never had any."

"Pansy?"

"Don't be disgusting."

Hermione sighed and regarded him sadly. She didn't want to admit that she pitied him, but to have _never _felt the gentle touch of another human being in his life? That was unthinkable. It also made another small piece of the puzzle that was Draco Malfoy fall into place.

"So that night in the hospital wing…"

"Yep. First time. It freaked me out a bit, actually."

He seemed ashamed to be admitting all this and she could hardly blame him. Wanting to distract him from such grim recollections, Hermione redoubled her efforts. She let her fingers slide around to the back of his neck where she rubbed the skin along the tops of his shoulders and then glided them over his nape. His breath shuddered and his eyes closed again.

"Is there anywhere in particular you'd like me to touch?" she asked nervously, before realising how the question sounded and flushing a dark shade of pink. A muscle in Malfoy's jaw twitched as he frowned at her.

"You…uh…you don't have to-"

"Malfoy, listen…I'm _going_ to touch you. Merlin knows you need it. So just accept it and stop acting so edgy."

"You're pretty bossy, you know that, right?"

"I do actually."

But he nevertheless only grumbled a little bit under his breath before leaning into her touch. He chose to express his preferences in a more non-verbal manner, whimpering when she stroked over a particularly sensitive spot or moaning softly. Hermione's blush wasn't going to go away anytime soon. She was also struck by the sudden thought out of nowhere that rumours of Draco Malfoy's sexual prowess at school were obviously all bollocks. It was clear from today alone that he'd never gotten intimate with _anyone_ either at school or otherwise. He was so starved for touch he was like a frightened animal, cowering away from affection but craving it all the same.

"Can I try something?" she asked, her voice a bit shaky. Malfoy looked almost petrified as he considered her question. But she could tell he was also desperate to find out what she had in mind. He nodded slowly, his steely eyes wide and anxious but also curious. Carefully, Hermione reached up and let her fingers glide along the line of his jaw and over his ear. Then she stroked his hair back until it was sitting neatly off his forehead. He closed his eyes, his body relaxing. It was like every moment she touched him, the weight of all his traumatic memories didn't sit so heavily on his shoulders. A part of her wondered at how he had managed to survive all his life until now without affection or gentleness. No wonder he had been so fucked up and angry all the time at school. After tracing her fingernails across his scalp a few times and revelling in the way he shuddered and leaned into her, Hermione shifted forwards on the bed. She gently pushed him until he got the message and wriggled back up against the headboard. Then she moved to wrap her arm around him. As he saw her get very close to him with her entire body, Malfoy swallowed and cleared his throat nervously.

"Wha…what are you doing?"

Hermione shrugged, pressing the left side of her leg against his, so that their hips were connected.

"I'm giving you a hug."

Malfoy jerked a bit away from her as she moved to wrap her arms around him. She slowed down, smiling reassuringly at him. Eventually the tension eased from his body just enough that he allowed her to slide up against him. Hermione rested her head on his shoulder and enfolded him with one arm draped comfortingly over his chest. He felt very stiff and uncertain for a long time. But after what seemed like several long minutes, Malfoy finally relaxed. He sighed and noticeably let his weight drop onto her. Tentatively he tilted his head her way and rested it against the top of her hair. He breathed deeply and she felt him calm down a lot. Then, when he was ready, he cautiously wound an arm around her shoulders so that he was returning the hug. His hand clenched unconsciously around her upper arm, holding on tight.

"Is…uh… is that okay?" he asked, and she felt the croaky vibrations of his voice against her temple.

"Very nice," she told him confidently, snuggling closer and nestling into the crook between his neck and shoulder, "Have you ever been hugged before?"

"Not that I can remember."

Hermione sniffled a little bit and held him tighter.

"Do you like it?" she asked. He thought about it for a long time before answering.

"It's…warm. You…you're warm," he stammered.

Hermione smiled, turning her face to burrow deeper into his chest. She chuckled to herself when she thought of the situation she found herself in. Cuddling up on a bed with Draco Malfoy was not exactly something she could have predicted even a week ago. But now it felt strangely _right_ to be offering him something so simple that he'd been deprived of his whole life.

A hug, for Merlin's sake! She was still in a state of shock about it. How could any child go through life without a parent ever embracing them? A mother stroking their hair when they got sick? A father giving a proud pat on the back? A friend celebrating a good exam result with a raucous hug? These were all such normal moments in her own experience that she couldn't imagine her life without them. It reminded her of Harry and the way that he clung to the people who showed him any affection. Even something as seemingly mundane as a birthday or Christmas present could make Harry well up with emotion. She often gave him small friendly hugs and the way he would grip her so tightly sometimes made her sad. But at least when he turned eleven Harry had discovered friends who appreciated him; loved him. The Weasleys had welcomed him into their mix as another member of the family, and he'd connected with Sirius and Remus later too. He also would _always_ have her and Ron by his side; the three of them were like soul mates. As he moved through his teenage years Harry had grown and been nurtured and cherished by so many people. He had flourished in many ways.

But Malfoy was different. During the most trying time of his life, when he had been maturing into a man, his whole world had been filled with hatred, coldness and arrogance. Harry had been ignored and neglected at home. But Malfoy had been _moulded _into something spiteful, something evil. It was only through sheer stubbornness and the force of his personality that he had managed to survive and fight back against that darkness. Harry might have tragically lost his parents, yes, but at least he knew they were good people who had loved him. Malfoy had been forced to accept his parents' failures. He'd had to confront Lucius and Narcissa's cruelty and recognise their complete and total betrayal towards him as parents. It was astounding he'd come so far.

Merlin knew he deserved at least one hug!

Hermione felt the chest beneath her rising and falling steadily and she breathed in the scent that was distinctively Malfoy. It filled her with a sense of protective anger. She swore to herself right then that she would help him! She'd be his friend if he needed one. It didn't matter what he'd been like at school or how he'd treated her in the past. In his arms she felt safe and so very _warm_ too, just like he had described earlier himself. They were a part of each other now, joined by something greater than mere coincidence or happenstance.

And she was determined to fight to keep it that way.

…

…

…

Harry watched glumly as the tent was being raised above their heads. Four wands were lifted in sync, making the large white sheet hover neatly over the poles that had been fixed in the ground to hold it up. Molly Weasley could be heard fussing in the kitchen making food for fifty people while Fred and George were hanging up luridly coloured lanterns all around the garden.

It seemed odd and almost wrong to be throwing a celebration when his heart could barely cope with the raw aching he felt that he recognised as the stinging sensation of grief. The smiles of those around him were a bit strained and the mood was muted. The Weasley family had wanted to go ahead with the wedding as planned, but there was this feeling of numb detachment hanging over the Burrow that only grew heavier as each day passed.

His eyes stung as he looked around. He felt like he hadn't slept in days now. How could he when all he could think about was the guilt that gnawed at his insides? Ron was taking it pretty hard. He'd barely left his bed since that night. Every time one of his siblings or his parents tried to coax him from his room he turned angry and belligerent. He hadn't even eaten, which was frankly something of a miracle for the red haired boy.

Harry himself was trapped in a kind of daze. He was no stranger to death, not after witnessing the murders of Cedric, Sirius and Dumbledore. But this was different. This was _Hermione. _She was like a sister to him. Nothing had prepared him for the devastation of knowing that she had died for him. He'd been forced to face a terrible burden of shame these last few days. He'd realised painfully that he had taken her for granted. His best friend. His most loyal supporter. So many times he had brushed her aside or let his temper get the better of him. Too often he'd just assumed that she would always have the answers. That she would solve all his problems for him. He had always relied on her to keep his head on straight and protect him from anything, even himself.

And now she was gone. Harry felt his chest tightening with sorrow. Why hadn't he done more for _her? _She was always the one helping him. Why hadn't he taken more of an interest in her problems? Why hadn't he been a better friend?

Harry's dark musings were interrupted by the crack of apparition. He watched tiredly as Kingsley approached from the boundary. The man hadn't been seen much since that night they'd escaped Privet Drive. He supposed the auror was feeling his own guilt for what had happened to Hermione, since he was the one who'd been assigned as her protector. The tall man walked steadily up towards the group of Weasleys nearby, carrying something in his hand. Harry moved over, curious about what brought him here.

Kingsley cleared his throat and looked solemnly around at the group gathered there.

"What is it, Kingsley?" Arthur pressed him when he seemed to pause undecidedly before him.

"Have you seen today's Prophet?" he asked in his deep, mellow voice, which was tinged with sadness.

"No, we stopped reading that drivel weeks ago. They're even worse now than they used to be."

"Maybe not. They've published something…troubling," the auror explained carefully, handing over the newspaper and stepping back as the group huddled around to read it together. Harry leaned in on Arthur's left, noticing the headline printed in large block font. His pulse skipped.

...

**MUDBLOOD BETRAYS NOTORIOUS ORDER OF THE PHOENIX**

**Outlawed group of radicals deceived by the now deceased teenager girl continue their warmongering despite the recent treachery.**

_Infamous muggleborn witch Hermione Granger has been no stranger to our readers here at the Daily Prophet. This week, however, her fickle loyalties were once more thrown into the spotlight when she turned on her band of extremist rebels, the self-titled Order of the Phoenix. While embarking on a recent air raid, possibly another reckless attack on innocent officials within the Ministry of Magic, the Order of the Phoenix were surprised by the betrayal of one of their own. Miss Granger acted as a whistle blower to their plans and ultimately turned her wand on Alastor Moody, disturbed ex-auror and unstable leader of their group. After murdering the man with an Unforgiveable Curse to the back sometime in the early hours of the morning, she was met with a swift justice that some might call karma. The eighteen year old was killed after suffering a horrific accident mid air with an untamed Thestral. Her body has been cremated in a small, private rite in the Department of Mysteries so as to avoid acts of retaliation on the corpse. _

_Readers of the Prophet will no doubt be shocked to learn of Miss Granger's dubious moral stance. Many delegates from the newly restructured Wizengamot have been speaking out about whether this event sheds light on the dangerous nature of the unauthorised group previously established by Albus Dumbledore, which appears to have gone rogue. _

_Some members have gone further and pointed out how this incident also raises questions as to the morally corrupt nature of muggleborn witches and wizards in general. Many point to this event as revealing the dubious loyalties of those labelled aptly as 'mudbloods' in some circles. One spokesperson for the Minister of Magic and former teacher of Miss Granger at Hogwarts, Ms Dolores Umbridge stated that "Miss Granger's history of licentious and vindictive behaviour can be used as a lesson to remind us of the troubled backgrounds of those who have stolen their magic and deceived the Wizarding community for years." It is clear that Prophet readers should consider carefully before allying themselves with or providing assistance to those with questionable roots in the magical world._

_To read a full summary of Miss Granger's previous behaviour as reported by the Daily Prophet, turn to page __**fourteen. **__To learn more about the Wizengamot's motion for an investigation into the magical origins of muggleborns, see page __**five.**_

...

Harry didn't even hear the shocked gasps or words of protest from the Weasley family surrounding him in that moment. He grabbed the paper right out of Arthur's hands, ripping it straight down the middle. Still not satisfied, he scrunched it up into a ball and threw it as far as he could with a yell of fury. It bounced uselessly off a craggy rock in the distance. He stood there panting. His hands were clammy and clenched into fists.

How dare they?

How could they use poor, sweet Hermione as some kind of fucked up excuse to promote their twisted pureblood prejudices? It was too much. He didn't even care that they managed to somehow twist the whole situation to blame her for giving away their flight from Privet Drive or for murdering Moody. That was just bollocks and obviously all lies designed to manipulate readers to suit their agenda. But to suggest that it somehow reflected the morality of all muggleborns in general was despicable. And worst of all, Hermione would have been devastated if she knew her name was being used as a weapon to denigrate wizards and witches like her. He could hardly stand it.

Vaguely he felt a soothing hand on his shoulder and he turned around to face whoever was trying to comfort him. To his surprise it was Fred Weasley, with his twin standing just behind him. Both of them had the most serious expressions Harry had ever seen on their faces.

"Take a deep breath mate," Fred encouraged him, an unusually shaky smile on his face, "You're turning purple."

Harry nodded and tried to calm the trembling rage that was gripping his body.

"The Daily Prophet's a waste of ink," George spat.

"Not worth the paper it's printed on," Fred agreed.

"Unless you want to wipe your arse with it."

With a reassuring grimace Harry accepted their attempt to lighten the mood, not sure what he was supposed to do now. Fred patted him on the back again and it gave him courage. Eventually he cleared his throat and turned to the rest of the group gathered there.

"Do you think it's true?" he asked Arthur Weasley, whose lined face had filled with even more sadness, "Do you think they cr…cremated…"

He couldn't finish the sentence, choking on the words as they fought to both come out and stay trapped deep within him. Arthur shook his head with a frown.

"I don't know," he admitted, "As Fred already mentioned, it's hard to trust anything the Prophet claims these days. But we also don't know what happened to her after…" he trailed off and turned a bit white and Harry was reminded that Arthur had always been very fond of Hermione.

Kingsley cleared his throat and stepped closer to their group. He put his hands out with open palms as if in a peaceable gesture.

"I know we have all trusted Hermione for many years, you in particular Harry, but the Prophet seems to think she may have given information to the death eaters about our movements that night. Since You-Know-Who did indeed know when we would move the boy, we have to at least consider…"

"_What_?" Harry growled, his eyes widening in disbelief, "are you mad?"

"Did anyone actually see who killed Moody?"

"Yes, I did!" Bill spoke up calmly from one side, "It was definitely You-Know-Who. Caught him right in the chest with a spell before going after Harry."

"But who alerted them to our plan?"

"You can't be serious," Harry spat at the older auror, his anger flaring out of control. He almost stepped forwards aggressively, but the steady hands of Fred and George on his shoulders held him back. Kingsley looked contrite but determined.

"All I'm saying is, there was something off about her behaviour that night. I was with her the whole time and she was acting strangely. Almost recklessly."

"That's _enough_!" Harry bellowed, only just stopping himself from leaping at the other man with fists flying, "I refuse to listen to another second of this bullshit! "

Without wasting another moment, Harry pushed roughly past the twins and stormed inside the house. He ignored the voices behind him calling his name. His mood was black. All he could see was red as he stomped up the rickety staircase until he reached Ron's room. His fists were still curled tight and shaking with rage. As he slammed the door behind him, he saw his friend's ginger head emerge blearily from the covers.

"Wha…?"

Harry moved over and collapsed onto the mattress that had been put in one corner for him. The bright orange walls were an odd contrast to his mood. Now that he was away from everyone he let himself take a deep breath as he started to rummage through the tangled thoughts in his mind. He was still confused and unsettled by Kingsley's words. There was something not quite right about the whole situation…

"Everything okay?" Ron asked him, propping himself up to sit on the edge of his own bed, rubbing his hands sleepily over his eyes.

"Not really. There was an article in the Prophet about Hermione."

Ron sighed, his whole body drooping wearily as if he had no fight left in him at all. He seemed to deflate completely and sink into a depression every time he heard her name.

"Come on, mate, you know that rag is total rubbish."

Harry nodded, his mind starting to tick back into gear.

"Mmhmm…"

He frowned to himself when he thought of Kingsley's words. The man had been responsible for Hermione that night. He'd been her protector. And yet even though he'd managed to find time to take her scarf, he'd not been able to just apparate away with her body? And now he was questioning her loyalty? The whole thing left a bad taste in Harry's mouth. That night when they had lost their best friend, he had been overwhelmed with grief and helpless rage. But now he was starting to think about it all. And the more he thought about it, the more uncertain he became. Taking a deep breath and running a hand through his messy hair, Harry met the gaze of his ginger haired friend. His expression was serious.

"Ron…" he said in a firm voice, "we need to talk."

…

…

…

Draco wiped down some dust from off the top of a crate, checking the contents as he rummaged around the back of the storeroom. Once he saw what type of whiskey was in there, he used his wand to levitate it into the right hand corner of the dark space with the others of its vintage. They'd been working in the basement room for Aberforth for about an hour that morning, returning his kindness with some help processing a new order that had just arrived.

He glanced over at Granger and saw the curly haired girl labelling shelves nearby. She had no wand so he was doing the heavy lifting with charms while she organised stock by hand.

"His butter beer supply is about five years past its expiration date!" she commented bemusedly, inspecting a couple of bottles with narrowed eyes. Draco snorted.

"Yeh but what sorry customer is really going to be ordering a butter beer in this dump?"

Granger grumbled under her breath for a few moments before smirking wryly in his direction.

"I have."

Draco rolled his eyes. He could just picture a younger version of the prim and proper Granger sitting here in this dingy pub sipping gingerly at the sugary child's beverage.

"Of course you have! I bet you've never even had a sip of fire whiskey in your life."

"It was a school visit!" she protested in outrage, her expression scandalised. Draco chuckled and levitated another crate of elf wine on top of the existing stack.

"I'm going to make it my mission to get you blind drunk one day," he told her with a cheeky grin.

"Alcohol kills brain cells," she muttered in response, scribbling something onto a label in her neat, cursive writing. Draco just chuckled louder, shaking his head. Before he could goad her further, Aberforth entered, scowling down at something clenched in his weathered hands.

"Oy, girl," he said in that deep throaty growl of his, directing his attention at Granger. She stood up straight, wiping her hands on her jeans and approaching him with a curious expression. He continued glaring down at the paper half scrunched up in his hands.

"Aberforth? What is it?" she prompted.

"You might want to think of a more direct way of contacting your little friends," he told her curtly, before shoving the paper in her direction. Draco inched forwards as well in order to take a look and saw that it was the front cover of the Daily Prophet. Granger took it in shaky hands and held it up to the lamplight behind them. He sidled across to read over her shoulder. As he did he felt his chest tighten and his stomach dropped. What disgusting drivel was this? The more he read the more sickened he became by the petty justifications unfolding in the article. It had been obvious for a long time now that the Prophet was entirely controlled by the ministry, which in turn had been infiltrated by enough Death Eaters to turn the tide against the Order. But to suggest that Granger had somehow sold out her friends and murdered someone? That was pretty audacious. Surely nobody rational would believe such pure and total bollocks? Then the piece started to link the whole situation to the question of muggleborns in general and he felt that nausea tighten and intensify.

"I…I don't…I don't understand-" he heard the weak, trembling voice of Granger beside him. He blinked and looked closely at her, seeing the glossy shimmer of tears gathering in her eyes. His heart skipped painfully.

"Granger-" he began, moving hesitantly to place a hand on her shoulder. He wasn't sure where or how to touch her, but wanted to give some kind of comfort. He barely brushed her shoulder before she jerked away, looking at the two wizards in the room with a shocked, almost traumatised gaze.

"How could they write this? Why would they say these things?"

She started to cry, her skin turning red and splotchy while also growing pale as she visibly shook with anger.

"Rabid dogs, the lot of 'em," Aberforth snarled, and Draco was surprised to see how much the old man actually cared. But all he could do was watch helplessly as Granger became overwhelmed, her eyes frantic as she read over the article again in distress. She looked like she was going to be sick.

"I can't…I need air…"

And without any warning she pushed past the two of them, racing up the staircase beyond as she desperately sought an escape from the dusty basement. There was an awkward silence as Draco stared at the space where she'd disappeared.

"You'd better go after her, boy," Aberforth told him in his usual throaty drawl, though his words were kind, "just leave the restocking until another time. It can wait. Yer lass needs you."

"Thanks," he murmured before bolting up the stairs after her, not bothering to delay long enough to correct Aberforth about Granger being his 'lass'. He paused at the doorway for a nervous moment in which he remembered to cast a hasty disillusionment charm. Then he sprinted across the small stretch of street. He could only guess where she'd run off to, but he guessed the forest near the shrieking shack where they'd gone before might be a good place to look. Sure enough, as he battled his way through the forest down the narrow path, he saw a head of curly brown hair in front of him.

"Granger?"

He finally caught up to her, a bit out of breath. She had frozen, her hands gripping the wooden fencepost in front of her with stark white knuckles. He stepped a little closer, watching her face carefully and seeing the general pallor and the tracks of tears down her cheeks. He wasn't sure what to say. Or what to do. It's not like he'd ever comforted someone before. So instead he just stood close and waited patiently, hoping that she'd tell him what she needed. But Granger seemed to be in a state of shock. Her eyes stared sightlessly in front of her and she appeared as if she couldn't even speak or turn his way.

"Gra…um…Hermione?" he called her name again, but decided to use her first name instead. It felt odd on his tongue, kind of clumsy. But he realised as well that it was such a pretty name. Hermione. He liked saying it. Draco saw a muscle in her jaw twitch a bit at the sound of her name on his lips. But she still didn't respond to him.

Then Draco remembered something. It had felt like bliss when she had touched him the last couple of days. He had felt alive. But not once had he wondered whether touching someone _else _would feel good too. Whether it was even something he knew how to do. But just maybe he'd be able to get through to her. And so, with trembling fingers, Draco reached out. His mouth was dry as he took her hand in his. Her skin was soft and her fingers dainty. Carefully he started to stroke her hand in his, soothing her muscles and trying to copy what she'd done to him in recent days.

Unbelievably, he found that caressing Hermione's skin felt just as amazing as when she'd touched him. The intimate contact still made him shiver in pleasure and tugged at something deep in his navel that he didn't dare dwell on. But this was about _her. _He focused on her reactions and touched her tenderly, watching her face carefully.

Finally, he seemed to penetrate that shell of horror. Hermione blinked away her tears and tilted her head to stare at him. Even though they were red from crying, her eyes were such a dark, chocolate brown that he felt himself get lost in the depth of her gaze.

"Nobody who matters is going to believe that ridiculous article," he told her calmly, continuing to rub her hand.

"I know," she croaked, sniffling quietly, "I just wish I could do _something _to stop them saying such hateful things about… about…people like me."

She didn't seem to be able to meet his eye. Draco swallowed, wincing at the sting he felt due to the dry lump that had formed in his throat. He noticed that she had avoided the term 'muggleborn'.

"Hermione…I'm so sorry…" he began, dropping his head as his grip tightened on her hand, feeling a wave of shame wash over him as he thought of his own behaviour when they were younger, "All those things I said…"

"Don't," she told him quietly as if she could read his thoughts, "I know you don't feel that way anymore. Please…please just…"

"What?" he prompted, knowing that she needed more from him but having no experience or knowledge to draw from when it came to comforting someone. Hermione didn't answer. With another sniffle she just leaned forwards and_ showed_ him what she wanted. Carefully she rested her head against his shoulder, wordlessly seeking solace in his arms. At first he wasn't sure what to do, especially with her warm body pressed against him from head to toe. But after a while he forced himself to act. Raising his arms, he attempted to recreate what she'd done for him yesterday and just hold her. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her even closer, tracing her back soothingly like he remembered her doing. And even though her tears were soaking into his shirt and they were both feeling emotionally fraught and upset, he thought to himself that he could definitely get used to this.

And that was when he noticed something. Before his eyes he saw the dark, ominous figure of Severus Snape slinking away from them through the trees, retreating backwards even though his eyes stayed fix on the couple pressed close in a tender embrace. His godfather scowled, shooting Draco a meaningful, intent stare in their direction before he vanished from sight.

Draco's pulse raced and he swore silently to himself. Severus knew he was here. With Hermione Granger of all people. And he didn't look happy about it. It was only a matter of time before the former professor and master spy confronted him.

He was royally fucked now.

…

**A lot ****_happened _****in this chapter. I'll be interested to hear your thoughts! Please review!**


	8. Chapter Eight

**Hello again. Interestingly the reviewers were a real mixed bag of those who guessed Snape right from the start and others who were surprised it was him! It just goes to show how we like to shape the story in our own minds as we read. **

**_Very _****exciting developments in this chapter. Looking forwards to your reactions. As always, JKR is the Minister for Magic!**

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**Chapter Eight**

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Hermione watched silently as Aberforth rummaged around in a drawer at the bottom of his rickety old desk. The grumpy wizard kept cursing under his breath, loudly pushing objects aside as he searched for something. They were in a small room out the back of the pub, parchment piled up high around every wall. She didn't even know the room existed until that afternoon. Maybe it was charmed to stay concealed by an extension charm. It was astonishing how tightly rigged with spells the whole building was.

"Where did I put the bloody thing?" Aberforth growled as he rifled under some documents on the desk. Hermione watched him in amusement. She met Draco's eye behind his back and they both shared a look of puzzlement, wondering why the old man had insisted he had something they could use. Eventually he let out a shout of triumph and pulled something from the depths of an old crate.

"Er…" Draco made a sound of confusion, his expression rather unimpressed as he looked at the object in Aberforth's hand. Hermione peered over to see it too and frowned. It was a broken fragment from a mirror. It wasn't even whole. Frankly it looked like junk.

"Here-" the old wizard barked, shoving it towards her hands. She gingerly took it from him, being careful to avoid slicing her fingers on its jagged edge.

"Right…well, thanks," Draco drawled a bit sarcastically.

"You can drop the cheek, boy," Aberforth snapped at him, drawing his wand and tapping the mirror brusquely as it sat still and cold in her hands. Hermione frowned down at the rough fragment as it began to warm up and something indistinct and blurry took shape on the surface of the mirror that was different to her own reflection.

"You'll figure it out, lass" Aberforth muttered with a confident nod, before limping from the room and shutting the door behind him. Draco blinked at the closed door, bemused at his sudden exit.

"He's gone barmy," the blond wizard commented, but Hermione ignored him in favour of continuing to stare down at that piece of mirror. The dark shapes were almost fuzzy around the edges but the longer she looked the more they seemed to come into focus. The image was still now, but she had a feeling it wasn't just a static photo or picture. It looked real.

"I can see something," she murmured after a while as an orange shape flickered in one corner of its surface.

"What?"

Draco moved closer, peering over her shoulder as well to inspect it. It looked like the ceiling of a room, but it was nothing like the dingy room they stood in together now. You could also just glimpse the edge of a curtain rail and the material hanging down loosely from it. It seemed to be facing upwards from the ground.

"What is _that_?" Hermione asked, turning the mirror around to look at it from another angle. She pointed at the edge of something printed on the curtain. It was like the side of a crest or emblem. Draco tilted his head to the side, pursing his lips as he squinted and looked at the image more closely.

"It's a C, but done in a sort of calligraphy style," Hermione mumbled as she tried to figure it out. She knew she'd seen it before somewhere, but she just couldn't place it. There was a quiet pause before Draco suddenly yelped out loud.

"Oh! You're right. It _is _a C!" he exclaimed.

"You recognise it?"

"I think it's the logo for the Chudley Canons."

Hermione blinked and turned it around a couple of times before smiling excitedly.

"Yes! And the orange on the wall here too… I don't believe it!"

"What?"

"This is Ron's bedroom!"

Draco shot her a look of exaggerated disgust.

"Eurgh, Weasley? Seriously? He supports the Canons?" he asked, his tone dripping with scorn.

"He's a _massive _fan, always has been," she told him, trying not to roll her eyes. Boys and their quidditch.

"Of course the king weasel goes for the team that loses the competition every single year; they're perfect for each other," then he paused, before glaring at Hermione as something else occurred to him, "wait, why do you know what his bedroom looks like?"

Hermione waved her hand dismissively, still focused on the room beyond the surface of the mirror.

"Oh be quiet," she scolded him, "Don't you see what this is? The other half of this mirror is with Harry and Ron! I must be seeing the reflection from their side. Which means they can see me too!"

"Except it's just an empty room…"

She sighed and looked intently at the glass as though willing something to change.

"Surely one of them will see this eventually… I'll just have to keep it close by and keep checking it."

Draco nodded, moving to lean against the desk nearby. He watched quietly as she pocketed the mirror and smiled, pleased that she had an even better method for contacting the boys.

"You hungry?" he asked.

Hermione cocked her head to one side as she observed him.

"Famished."

"Why don't you go upstairs and I'll put together some food for us for dinner?"

Hermione gave him a very pleased grin, impressed that he was willing to do things for himself (and her!) and not just rely on others serving him. She was also pretty keen to have a wash and get ready for bed hopefully _without _any interruptions while she was getting changed.

"Thanks…um…Draco."

It was odd to use his first name, but at the same time she liked the familiarity it created. And she especially liked the way the sound of her saying his name made his features light up. He'd started it by using 'Hermione' instead of Granger, and she was just returning the favour. But it was nice too.

With one last grateful smile, Hermione skipped upstairs to take a shower, checking the mirror fragment every so often to see if someone appeared. She could only hope that Harry would use it at some point. After that article, it was vital that she find a way to communicate with him. She just had a bad feeling about it all…

…

…

…

After a dinner of stew and bread, graciously offered by Aberforth when Draco had gone hunting around the ground floor of the pub, the two of them were both feeling full and relaxed. The stress of the day had eased somewhat and Hermione seemed calmer now that she had a way of seeing what her friends were up to. The knowledge that Potter and Weasley were still at the Burrow and hadn't gone off on some wild escapade on their own had been a huge relief to her.

As he showered and cleaned his teeth with a transfigured brush in the adjoining room, Draco felt a weight on his mind that had been troubling him all afternoon. He hadn't wanted to add to Hermione's distress earlier, but seeing Snape in Hogsmeade that afternoon had been sitting unpleasantly in his thoughts ever since. He had imagined all the possible scenarios and consequences of that moment, each option worse than the last, and didn't have a clue what he should do. Luckily his curly haired companion hadn't noticed their former professor in those few seconds before he disappeared into the forest. He didn't even want to think about how frightened she would have been on top of everything else that had been going on.

The other big problem was the exact moment that Snape had actually witnessed earlier. He could hardly have failed to recognise the distinctive appearance of Hermione Granger cuddled up in Draco's arms. Seeing the two former enemies embracing would surely reveal more than he would wish, given his uncertainty about the spy's loyalties.

Sighing, Draco combed his hair back from his forehead with his fingers. He tightened his jaw with resolve. Now that she had recovered from her shock after seeing that horrible article, he needed to tell Hermione. She'd stuck by him all this time to help him, so it would be wrong to keep secrets from her. She deserved to know about Snape, even though he really didn't want to freak her out. Gritting his teeth, Draco cautiously returned to the bedroom, glad to see that he hadn't walked in on anything embarrassing this time. She was just plaiting back her hair while sitting on the bed, her mirror and galleon sitting in front of her ready just in case something changed.

"We need to talk," he announced nervously, wanting to get it off his chest before it made him too sick with anxiety. Hermione blinked and stared at him warily, lowering her hands as she gave him her whole attention.

"Okay," she drawled slowly, a look of trepidation on her face, "about what?"

He exhaled a heavy breath and came to sit on the bed next to her, rubbing absentmindedly at his arm. She had performed the same spell earlier to disillusion the mark and it felt numb and awkward now. He wished she was touching it right now, but he knew he needed to concentrate on what he was saying.

"Something happened earlier, when we were…um…" he almost said the word _hugging _but a shy flush came over his cheeks and stopped him, "when we were near the Shrieking Shack."

Hermione looked at him in concern, her eyes flickering down to his arm and back up.

"Is it your mark? Did I not do the spell right?"

Draco realised he was still kneading his arm and let go, holding his hands out in reassurance.

"No, my arm's fine. Of _course _you did the spell right!" he told her with a wry smile, showing her the total confidence he felt in her abilities, "It was something else."

"What?"

"I saw Snape."

Her eyes widened as she tried to work out what he meant. Draco cleared his throat and continued.

"He was standing hidden among the trees. When I noticed him he was just looking at us and then he disappeared."

The curly haired witch frowned, pursing her lips together and staring at him with a look of confusion.

"Are you sure?"

Draco snorted.

"He's a pretty distinctive looking guy, you know. I think I'd probably recognise him after all these years."

"Fair enough. But…_why_? Why not confront us?"

"I don't know. He just sort of glared at me then vanished."

Hermione's scowl deepened and he knew she was puzzling it all out in her head. He was very familiar with this expression from all the classes they'd shared together over the years. She got an adorable little crease on the bridge of her nose as she screwed it up just a little bit.

"So he didn't attack us…" she wondered aloud, "and he didn't come and speak to us. So what was he playing at?"

"I'm not sure."

"Do you think he recognised _me?_"

Draco snorted, giving her a slightly incredulous look.

"Seriously? You don't exactly blend in," he told her wryly. Hermione chuckled too and tugged playfully on the end of her braid, which was only just containing her wild, curly hair. Then she sobered and shook her head as she kept pondering the problem at hand.

"So wait…if he really was a _true _Death Eater…" she mused quietly as he leaned back casually on the bed, "Surely he would have confronted us. Or just attacked us! Why wait? Why just glare at you?"

He shrugged and cocked his head to one side.

"Maybe he's _not _loyal to the Dark Lord," he suggested.

"Maybe," she echoed, "after all, you told me yourself that nothing is ever as it seems when it comes to Professor Snape."

Draco shook his head, giving her a cheeky grin.

"You know you don't have to keep calling him _Professor, _right?"

Hermione laughed.

"Old habits die hard," she told him sheepishly.

"You're right though," he said with a grimace, "The fact that Snape didn't approach us tells me that he has some kind of ulterior motive of his own."

"Mmhhmm," she hummed in agreement.

He lifted one eyebrow and gave her a questioning look.

"The only problem is; what should _I_ do now? He made the first move, but can I trust him?"

"What do your instincts tell you?"

Draco smothered a laugh but couldn't prevent the cheeky smile from stretching his lips.

"To run away to a tropical island somewhere far away?" he joked. Hermione shook her head indulgently.

"No seriously!"

"Okay, well…" he thought about it for a moment, rubbing the back of his head as he weighed up everything he knew about the man, from this past year in particular. There was no denying that something felt off about him. Snape's role in the death of Dumbledore had raised a lot of questions in his mind, especially given the spy's unusual behaviour since then. Draco sighed and met Hermione's gaze, murmuring, "My instincts tell me that he just wants to help me. I know he can be a cold, surly bastard… but he's always had my back. Even when I was a little prat at school."

"A big prat," Hermione mumbled under her breath, but she also had a playful smile on her face. Draco chuckled.

"Okay a massive prat. But it's true. Severus was always in my corner. And he's not like the other death eaters. He's smart. And I know he's not exactly _nice_, but he is compassionate…in his own way."

Hermione nodded eagerly.

"Well that's settled then, isn't it?"

Draco blinked.

"Is it?" he asked in confusion.

"Sure. We're both reasonably certain he's not going to kill us on sight. Otherwise he already would have. So let's meet him."

"Excuse me?" he asked in disbelief, not sure he'd heard her correctly.

"It's simple. Next time we go to the forest we'll keep an eye out for him and confront him."

"_That's_ your plan?"

Hermione gave him a smug smile, shrugging a bit casually.

"All my other plans have worked so far, haven't they?" she challenged. Draco stared at her a bit bemused for a moment before nodding reluctantly.

"I suppose that's true. But if he brutally murders us I'm going to be really pissed off!"

"I'm willing to take that risk," she told him in a mock serious tone. They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, both thinking about the daunting idea she'd suggested. Eventually Hermione exhaled softly and wound her ankles up under her knees until she was sitting cross-legged on the bed. She rested her hand in a relaxed stance on her chin.

"So if Snape is your godfather…" she started in a slow, thoughtful voice.

"Yes?"

"…Does that mean he used to be all warm and fuzzy when you were a baby?"

Draco snorted, shaking his head at her wry smile.

"Not a chance. He was just as prickly back then as he is today."

"Really?"

"I hardly ever saw him, and when I did it was only so that Lucius could get updates on my academic progress. I remember he used to give me little tests and puzzles back when I was little. They were always way too hard of course. But I suppose I looked forward to them."

"You sound like me."

"Merlin forbid," he groaned with a roll of his eyes. Hermione chuckled and slid back across the bed to lean against the headboard. Draco copied the movement until they were sitting side by side.

"What are _your_ parents like?" he asked with a frown, realising it had never even occurred to him before to ask about her muggle family and what they were going through given the situation she was in.

"They're… sweet. Quite domestic and very happy to just spend an evening reading or working from home. Strict too. I'm an only child and I think my parents have always just expected me to behave like one of the adults."

"Where are they now?" he asked, and saw her face fall a bit into a sad, almost haunted look.

"I…they…let's just say they're somewhere safe. No one knows where they are, not even Harry and Ron. All that matters is that they're far away from here."

He nodded, not wanting to push her when she was clearly upset by the question. But if he were to guess, he'd say that she'd had a direct hand in making sure they were far away. A witch as smart as Hermione would surely have recognised and appreciated the danger her parents were in. After a moment, she seemed to visibly pull herself together, meeting his gaze with a compassionate smile.

"I don't dare ask about _your _parents," she murmured quietly, "not after everything you've told me so far."

Draco huffed out a short breath and scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"No. It's a fairly depressing subject. They were more like my 'masters' than my parents."

"Wasn't there ever anyone who you were close to? Didn't anyone just…play with you?"

Draco contemplated the question for a while before smiling softly at a memory he hadn't thought of for a long time.

"Well, this is going to sound odd… but there was this one house elf who used to run around the garden with me. I had this low hovering child's broomstick and he'd pretend to be the snitch and I'd have to catch him," Draco chuckled wistfully as he remembered the many happy hours he'd spent playing their little game. Nobody had bothered to come looking for him. Narcissa was far too occupied acting as hostess to her large circle of friends. And Lucius was as cold as they came. Sometimes they just kept playing until it was so dark outside he couldn't see any longer.

"A house elf?" he heard Hermione question, her voice a bit shaky. He raised his gaze to meet her big brown eyes, held wide open in surprise. There was a tender smile on her face.

"Yeh. He was just about the only one who treated me as though I actually mattered. I miss that poor little guy."

Her smile cracked a little.

"What happened to him?"

"We grew apart as I got older. Lucius treated him like shit and started forbidding us from playing together. He said elves should learn their place under the might of wizards, or some rubbish like that. Then one day around the end of second year he just disappeared-"

Hermione's smile fell suddenly and her mouth dropped open.

"Wait…are you talking about _Dobby?_"

Draco blinked in surprise, cocking his head to one side.

"How do _you_ know Dobby?"

"He…well…he works at Hogwarts! Your father accidentally freed him when Harry found out how the Chamber of Secrets was opened. It's complicated. Anyway, sometime later Dumbledore offered him a salary and he's been working there now for years!"

"No shit!" he exclaimed in shock, running a hand through his hair as he absorbed this information. He felt a wave of relief wash over him. For so long he'd assumed that the elf was dead, probably killed by Lucius in a fit of rage or malice. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time. He let out a shaky breath.

"But why didn't he ever… show himself to me? Talk to me?"

Hermione shrugged, smiling cheekily at him.

"Draco, you do remember what an arrogant wanker you were at school, don't you? Maybe by that time he was worried you'd grown into a carbon copy of your father?"

"Probably," he replied glumly. Then something else occurred to him and he sat upright on the bed in realisation.

"Woah wait a minute…"

"What?"

He turned to her eagerly, his mind racing.

"Do you think that's who Aberforth was talking about? Remember the day we arrived, he said Dumbledore had some house elf keeping an eye on me?"

Hermione quirked up an eyebrow and her lips slowly stretched into a smile.

"I think you're probably right! He did mention tea cosies after all!"

Draco smiled, leaning back and releasing a breath. He felt good knowing that the little elf was looking out for him. And that wherever he was, Dobby hopefully knew he _hadn't _turned out just like his father. At least someone would care about his fate. And maybe one day he'd get to thank him for being the closest thing to a friend Draco had ever had as a child.

"So… does this mean you _don't_ think house elves are beneath you?" Hermione asked in a hesitant, almost hopeful tone. He frowned.

"Of course not. I'll admit I was a spoilt, prejudiced little brat at school, so it wouldn't be totally unfair to assume I felt that way… but I was basically raised by the house elves at Mafoy Manor. They were all I had. And Dobby was…my friend."

Hermione gave him a watery smile. She seemed to be moved by his words and he saw her eyelashes flutter a bit. He watched her warily as she sniffed and wiped her nose, chuckling at herself.

"Sorry," she croaked, trying to pull herself together and swiping brusquely at her eyes. Once she'd calmed down, Draco noticed her deep brown eyes gazing up at him and she slid forwards ever so slightly on the bed towards him. She cleared her throat and murmured,

"While you were getting food earlier, I was thinking about your… um…I guess we should call it touch therapy."

Draco's mouth went dry and he nodded slowly, wondering where she was going with this. As if on cue, his skin prickled with hunger and he wondered frantically whether she was actually going to touch him again. He remembered the way she'd caressed the scar on his chest and he wanted more.

"And? What were you thinking?" he managed to mutter hoarsely and had to swallow the painful lump in his throat.

"I want to try something new."

Draco's nervous system lit up like a Christmas tree and his brain disengaged, yelling _YES, Merlin yes - try something new! _at the top of its voice inside his head. He forced himself to swallow again, his tongue feeling awkward as he tried to formulate a more dignified response.

"O...Okay," he stammered a bit too eagerly, feeling almost queasy with anticipation. He didn't even care what she did or where she did it, as long as she followed through on her tantalising words. His hands clenched into fists by his sides as he waited in agony for her to move, to do something, anything. Eventually Hermione eased forwards on the bed once more until they were sitting very close. Then she reached down and tentatively picked up his wrist. She turned it over to expose his dark mark and he clenched his eyes shut tight, willing her to stroke it with her fingers again like she'd done before. He seemed to wait forever.

But he never felt her fingertips. Instead, after a devastatingly long pause, he suddenly felt a small puff of air against his skin. Draco's eyes shot open again. He stared in part disbelief and part exhilaration as she leaned her head closer. Then she pressed her lips to his arm and he had to physically stop himself from letting his whole body violently jerk, either closer or away, he wasn't sure. It was like touching a live electric wire. The shock went down to his toes and rested heavily somewhere deep below his gut.

He watched, stunned, as Hermione's lips glided across the top of the skull, before she gave it a quick, not quite chaste kiss. Slowly she drew away and her dark chocolate eyes blinked up at him.

"Is that okay?" she asked a bit uncertainly. Draco actually gulped like a nervous second year and nodded, trying really hard not to appear _too _enthusiastic.

"Ye…yeh," he whispered.

Hermione waited another moment so she'd know he was sure, and then she repeated the movement. She leaned down and pressed her lips to his arm, her touch feather light. He could feel that her mouth was just a little bit moist against his skin and he shuddered. Draco's head tilted back as his breathing quickened. He tried to focus on the feeling of her kissing him, the heat of her breath, the softness of her lips. He wondered whether she was marking him and if, in the years to come, he'd always feel the ghost of her kiss on his arm.

Draco's cheeks grew very flushed when her mouth caressed his skin sensually again, moving higher. His skin tingled when her lips lingered this time.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked her curiously He knew he was definitely enjoying himself, but couldn't help wondering what _she_ was getting out of this one sided exchange. But Hermione just smiled up at him, a soft glow of affection in her gaze.

"Because you were friends with a house elf," she told him with a little half smile. Draco wasn't sure what she meant or why that would make her want to kiss him. But he found his voice was too weak to question her further when she raised herself up and leaned in closer to him, their faces only inches apart. Draco felt warm. Hot. He wanted to touch her too. He wanted to grab her and…and… he wasn't sure what he wanted to do. All he knew was that he needed more. He was burning up.

"I want…can I…?" his voice trailed off into an embarrassing whimper as she closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together before he could request any of the confused yearnings spinning through his mind.

_She's kissing me…oh Merlin…_

His brain shut down in several key places and all he was able to register was the sweet, agonising feeling of her mouth, soft and wet against his. It was wonderful. He knew instantly that he could grow addicted to this. Her lips tasted like butter beer and spearmint.

But then she started to tenderly brush her mouth against his, parting her lips to kiss him properly and Draco felt something brittle deep within him snap. A tight sensation settled itself in his navel. He clenched his eyes shut and swore silently about a hundred times, warning himself to stay in control as he felt an answering pulse in his groin. Hermione exerted a bit more pressure and kissed him again and again, causing Draco to release a throaty groan.

But then she pulled away. He chased her lips, leaning forwards to prolong the contact for as long as he could. But too soon they were parted. He blinked his eyes open, taking in deep, heaving breaths.

"Good?" she asked him with a wry smile. Draco laughed a bit hoarsely and nodded, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"Yeh. Really good."

He couldn't stop staring at her lips. They were a little bit swollen and more pink than usual. It tugged at something inside him.

"Want to do it again?" she asked when she realised what was distracting his attention.

"Uhuh," he replied quickly, his enthusiasm clear in his voice.

"Just take your time. Copy what I do," she instructed quietly as they both leaned in at the same time. He nodded and then they were kissing again and it was just as amazing as before. She brushed her lips over his and parted them gently. Draco follow suit. The world around them dissolved into nothing until it was just their lips locked in a kiss that scorched him. There was an ache deep in his core. It was the most intimate moment of his life so far by some considerable margin. Then she nibbled lightly on his bottom lip and he shivered as he felt her sharp little teeth press into his skin.

Draco realised then that he was hard and felt himself blush. He really hoped that Hermione didn't notice. But all she did was move backwards to rest her forehead calmly against his. They both breathed heavily for a moment and he relished the soft puffs of air she released against his cheek. He noticed that she had one hand looped around his neck and was stroking the hair at his nape. Draco couldn't stop one side of his mouth twitching up happily into a demented grin.

"Soo…" he murmured, "can we do it again?"

Hermione chuckled. Instead of answering him, she just obliged, sealing their lips together in another kiss.

_I could get _very _used to this…_

_…_

_…_

**And there you go. Definitely leave your amazingly motivating reviews please!**


	9. Chapter Nine

**Okay, straight into the new chapter. Glad you guys liked the first kiss. I hope you all remember that this story is rated M… **

**As always JKR is the real brains here.**

**Chapter Nine**

**…**

**…**

Hermione waited nervously behind a large oak tree, just off the path near the Shrieking Shack. Her blond companion was leaning against the tree opposite her, both of them fidgeting as they counted down the minutes. Surely after what Draco had recalled seeing last time they were here, Snape wouldn't let an opportunity go by again without actually confronting them. It was a miracle nobody else had seen them really, she thought, berating herself for being so careless over the last few days. This morning she had made sure they both took their doses of Polyjuice potion with plenty of time to go out and run errands for Aberforth without running into any sudden changes or relying solely on disillusionment charms. Now they were back to their normal bodies, but had hidden themselves away in the forest awaiting Snape's inevitable arrival.

_Where is he?_ She wondered, peering around the trunk of her tree and tapping her foot impatiently. She had no doubt her former professor would turn up. He would either seize the chance to capture them or, if Draco's instincts were correct, then at least confront his godson about what the hell had happened. The boy had just disappeared after all.

It was at times like this that Hermione really missed her wand. If she'd been armed, then this whole forest would have been rigged with traps and wards to defend them just in case things didn't go their way. Although she begrudgingly admitted that Draco had done a fairly good job setting up protective enchantments on both them and their little hideout. He was certainly a damn sight more skilled than either Harry or Ron with his charms work.

_Okay, I'll admit… his wards _are _quite clever… _she grumbled to herself, thinking of a couple of the spells he'd used that even she hadn't been very familiar with. It seemed he'd learned a thing or two these last few months since leaving Hogwarts. He may not have graduated from sixth year after everything that happened, but he would undoubtedly have placed second in their class if he'd done his exams. After her, of course. There was a reason her study timetables were something of a Hogwarts legend.

Draco cocked his head to one side, giving her a wry smile and lifting one eyebrow questioningly. She blushed as she realised she'd been caught staring at him. She'd been lost in her thoughts about his stupid sexy brain and was probably gazing at him like a total fool. Hopefully there hadn't been any drool. Not that you could blame her. She found intelligence very attractive. That's why she'd agreed to go out with Krum in their fourth year. She figured there must have been some reason the goblet of fire had chosen him, and he had proven himself in the first challenge already. Not that they ended up have many intellectual discussions during their time spent together.

Hermione shuffled a bit anxiously and returned Draco's smile with a soft one of her own. Thinking of Krum and how they 'never talked much' just reminded her of last night and her cheeks flushed pink. After those first few stammered words of reassurance, there hadn't been much conversation between her and Draco at all. She wasn't sure how she'd dredged up the courage to kiss him. But it had been clear that if anything were going to happen then _she _had to initiate it. He definitely had no idea what he was doing. It was almost cute actually. But she'd also known for damn sure that he _wanted_ to kiss her. He had been staring so fiercely at her lips after she'd kissed his arm, and his steely grey eyes had positively scorched her with their intensity.

He'd been a quick learner, she remembered with a pleased smile. Not because she'd ever believed he would be a _bad_ kisser or anything, he just needed to overcome his sensitivity to touch. With their lips brushing softly against each other, she'd felt his whole body going tense and his eyes had been clenched shut, an expression of what almost looked like agony on his features. It had probably been too much for him too soon, she'd thought. But then he'd slowly leaned further into the kiss and returned her caresses, relaxing against her touch. Then he'd gained confidence. Later, as they'd lain down side by side, he'd even run his fingers through her hair, before tracing the curve of her neck and shoulders. Draco had initiated a few of their more urgent kisses during the long make-out session that followed. And even though he'd tried desperately to keep shifting his hips away from hers, she'd certainly noticed the hardness straining against the front of his trousers. She'd been curious, but had taken things slowly, not wanting to push him too far.

Hermione shook her head with a self-deprecating smirk. She couldn't quite believe she was daydreaming about kissing Draco Malfoy of all people. Even just a year ago she would have told herself to snap out of it and would have probably started questioning her sanity too. But a lot can change in just a couple of weeks, she mused, looking over at the blond Slytherin as he leaned against the tree in a deceptively casual stance.

Suddenly, Draco snapped upright as the sound of rustling leaves caught their attention. Hermione's heart skipped as she spun around. Glancing out from behind her tree, she saw the ominous figure of Severus Snape prowling his way through the forest. His gaze was direct and focused on where they stood, partially concealed and waiting for him.

She watched Draco step out cautiously, making his way slowly to the clearing where Snape was coming to a stop. She tentatively moved out behind him, letting him take the lead. They'd agreed that there was simply no point hiding her away; he clearly already knew about her being here, and they stood a better chance together at convincing him to help them.

Snape prowled out into the clearing, his black robes swirling around his legs in the stormy summer breeze. His face was set into its usual cold sneer, although she thought maybe his skin was even more sallow and pasty than usual. He looked…tired.

"Draco," the older wizard drawled, his expression colder than she'd ever seen it before, "you're…_alive_," he said the word in a tone dripping with scorn.

"No thanks to you," Draco quipped back harshly and she saw the former professor almost wince. She knew that the two hadn't seen much of each other since Dumbledore's death, but she was still surprised by the animosity between them.

"And yet here you are," Snape observed, his voice so quiet she had to strain to hear him, "and it seems you've made a new friend..."

Hermione wasn't sure she liked the way he said 'friend', as though she was something to be ashamed of. Draco didn't even blink.

"How is it any business of yours?"

"Of course it's my business. Your parents have been frantic with worry over your disappearance, Draco-"

He snorted, running a hand through his blond hair.

"Worried about their reputation with the Dark Lord more likely."

A muscle twitched in Snape's jaw.

"Nevertheless… your untimely absence has raised certain questions about your loyalty."

"No shit. I may as well have painted the word _traitor _on my robes."

She watched warily as Snape stepped forwards, narrowing the space between them as his scowl deepened.

"Is this a game to you?"

"Not at all," Draco quipped wryly, "Especially when nobody wins."

"Don't you understand? They'll hunt you down and kill you," Snape growled. Draco paused, considering his old professor carefully.

"_They?_" he eventually asked, his grey eyes hard and filled with meaning. Snape looked him over critically, as though contemplating something. Hermione hoped that Draco was right and Snape was not in fact one of _them_.

"Yes. They. What did you think Draco? That I would turn you over to him? That I'd betray you?"

"I don't know what to think."

Snape's obsidian eyes flickered over to her, and Hermione straightened her shoulders, trying to look braver than she felt right now.

"And you, Miss Granger? Aren't you afraid I'm going to hand you on a platter to the Dark Lord, or maybe just kill you right here?"

Hermione felt a small tremor of nerves, but then a smile curled at her lips when she noticed Draco moving slightly to the left. Now he was standing just in front of her in an almost protective stance.

"Back off, Snape," he snapped.

"It's alright," she murmured, meeting her former professor's stare with her chin held high, "You can't intimidate me, Professor," she told him, noticing with amusement that her blond companion rolled his eyes when she referred to the man by his title.

"Oh? And why is that?"

She shrugged, moving forwards to stand shoulder to shoulder with Draco.

"Because I think you're going to help us."

"Am I?" he asked with one raised eyebrow, a familiar sneer on his face.

"Yes. Otherwise you would have already done something to immobilise or reveal us. You've seen us here before." He glared at her angrily as she took a quick breath and continued. "Also Draco seems to think that you're _not_ a total bastard. And I trust his judgment."

Draco shot her a wry half smile of gratitude. She shuffled closer so that they were standing united, their fingers brushing softly between them. Snape's gaze was dripping with scorn as he observed them both quietly for a moment.

"How touching. This certainly answers a few questions, Draco," he muttered after a while, "such as why Miss Granger mysteriously vanished the night Potter slipped through their fingers. Or what prompted your own desertion. However," he added crisply, "I am stunned you didn't both just kill each other. I couldn't imagine a more unlikely alliance."

"We were as surprised as you," Draco joked, grinning a bit cheekily.

"Yes, but the real question here," Hermione reminded them both sternly, "is whether _you _are our ally, Professor."

Snape tilted his head to one side like a hawk.

"For all intents and purposes I _am _a devoted follower of the Dark Lord," he told them in a quiet, brittle voice, "I swore myself to him completely the moment I murdered Albus Dumbledore."

Draco scoffed, folding his arms in front of his chest.

"You and I both know that's bollocks, Snape. You're a good actor. And probably the best bloody occlumens that ever lived, but underneath all that you're actually a pretty shit death eater."

Eventually, Snape's cold façade cracked a little bit, and she saw the withering glare turn into an almost feral smirk.

"I'm going to take that as a compliment."

"Good. Because Hermione wasn't kidding. We need your help."

The older wizard crept forwards until he was standing very close to the pair of them, his pale skin in such stark contrast to the black depths of his eyes that he appeared almost haunted.

"First I need a satisfactory explanation from you-"

"I don't owe you anything-" Draco interrupted angrily.

"Like hell you don't," Snape growled, "I was the one who saved you, you ungrateful little brat. If I hadn't arrived in time that night on the Astronomy tower your soul would have been fractured and broken. Do you really think you could have survived committing cold-blooded murder without repercussions?"

"What about _your _soul?" Hermione chimed in curiously. He glared at her so fiercely she almost wanted to take a step backwards. Sheer stubbornness stopped her.

"My soul is doing just fine, Miss Granger, not that it's any business of yours. Unlike some, I'm not an ignorant boy too swollen with his own self-importance and hubris to ask for help."

"I was scared!" Draco shouted angrily, his face turning even whiter than usual, "It wasn't pride or arrogance. I was terrified. I never wanted to kill anyone, you git! Why do you think I grabbed the first opportunity to get the hell out of there?"

He gestured towards Hermione and she felt a wave of pity for him, knowing how desperate he must have been to get away from it all, even going so far as putting his faith in a former nemesis.

"Which brings me to the heart of the problem…" Snape told him curtly, also glancing across at her with a sense of incredulity, "How exactly is it that you two came to be here together? And why have your parents been unable to locate you?"

"Did they try?" Hermione asked in concern, her eyes flickering down to the dark mark on Draco's arm. His eyes widened too, probably wondering if his parents were close to figuring out where he was.

"Yes. And they're not the only ones. But every time they try to use the dark mark to track your whereabouts they get nowhere."

Draco glanced sideways at her, as if confirming whether he should reveal what she had done to help conceal him. She nodded encouragingly.

"We're staying at the Hog's Head. Aberforth's wards seem to be masking us quite well. We've ordered some books on curse marks and…well, Hermione did this spell…" his voice trailed off, looking to her for help describing it.

"I got the idea from a book," she explained warily, more than used to Snape's less than impressed attitude towards her academic habits, "I figured I could link a disillusionment spell with a sort of detection charm for revealing and concealing human entities. The incantation is _dissimulato spiritus. _So far it seems to be working. But it's only temporary."

Her former professor glared at her, though the malice in his gaze had softened somewhat more than she was used to.

"And of course the resident know-it-all had to make up her own spell," he commented dryly, "but you're right. It won't last. You need a more permanent solution. Once the Dark Lord is no loner preoccupied with toppling the ministry and he gets more involved in your search… it won't be enough."

"We know that," Hermione told him sulkily, crossing her arms, "but we're at a bit of a disadvantage here. I don't even have a wand."

Snape considered them carefully for a while, as if weighing up the information they'd given him. He paced back and forth a few times, a perpetual scowl stuck to his face. He tapped one long bony finger against his lips thoughtfully. Hermione waited nervously for him to reach a conclusion about them. It was obvious that Dumbledore's murderer wasn't as devoted to the death eaters' cause as the Order believed. But he was also one tough son of a bitch to figure out. At this point she had no idea what his motivation was or how he would act. She was fairly certain he wouldn't make things _worse _for them. But there was always the possibility that he'd just turn his back on them and pretend he'd never seen them. Eventually he spun around to face them, robes snapping sharply with his movements.

"You don't need a spell," he told them in a low, serious voice, speaking slowly as though he was still considering the problem as he went, "Charms and protective spells will only get you so far. When dealing with the human body they're mostly transitory anyway. You need a potion."

Hermione's brows rose in curiosity, wondering where he was going with this. Nobody knew potions like Severus Snape, after all, and she was relieved as well that he seemed to want to help.

"What do you mean? Do you know a potion that would work?" Draco asked eagerly, his earlier reticence forgotten.

"In a manner of speaking. I designed one years ago in case I'd ever need to remove my mark. But…it's rather complex."

Hermione thought it was a bit hypocritical that he'd mocked her for inventing a spell of her own when he was admitting to virtually the same thing. But Draco smiled, waving Snape's concern away flippantly with one hand.

"But you'll help, right? If it's your own formula then surely you can brew it!"

Snape let out a heavy sigh as though there was a great weight upon him.

"I will be quite…. _busy_ soon. The Dark Lord has placed me in charge of Hogwarts as its new headmaster."

"Oh dear," Hermione gasped, "that's not going to be a popular decision."

"Indeed."

"But I suppose it could be worse. He could have put Bellatrix in charge or something," Draco reasoned, "at least this way you can try and protect the students."

Hermione considered this; nodding pensively as she wondered what kind of nightmare Ginny and the others would be walking into this year. There was simply no way that Voldemort would leave the school to run as normal without imposing his agenda onto it somehow. But Draco made a good point. Snape might be the lesser of many evils.

"Yes, well… you can see my dilemma. I doubt I'll have time to brew this particular potion for you."

"What does it do exactly?" she asked, intrigued.

Snape seemed to adopt the posture of a professor once more as he wandered across the space in front of them, hands clasped behind his back.

"It's a fusion draught. The potion draws magic through the blood system. It locates all foreign traces of the curse throughout the body that was used to imprint the dark mark into Draco's skin. It isolates them into a single area. This then renders the mark susceptible to other charms that can target the magic of the invading curse itself without risking harm to the original host."

Hermione frowned, considering what he was saying. She thought it sounded like it could work. If they managed to thread together every trace of that insidious curse inside him, then surely that would make it easier to destroy. Snape was right. They needed to make sure it wasn't connected in any way to the rest of his magic before they took drastic action. It might kill him otherwise.

"How complex are we talking here?" she asked. He levelled her with a discerning stare as if measuring her from top to bottom. She squirmed a bit uncomfortably. Then he pursed his lips in a sneer.

"It's probably not an impossible feat for someone who illegally brewed Polyjuice potion in her second year," he admitted begrudgingly.

Hermione grinned as Draco turned to her with an impressed look. She nodded, feeling significantly more confident than before. If the snide Professor Snape, who had maligned and belittled her abilities for years, believed that she could brew it, then she was certain she would succeed.

"How long does it take?"

"Two months."

She blinked in surprise.

"Two _months?_" she repeated, appalled. That meant two months before she could get back to Harry and Ron. Two months before she could help them hunt down horcruxes. Merlin only knew what they would get up to in that time if she weren't there to guide them. Draco must have seen the stricken look on her face because he turned to her with a forlorn expression.

"You don't have to stay-" he started, tentatively reaching out to take her hands in his. She grasped him in return. He was still so insecure about initiating touches, but one very long snogging session had certainly helped. She noticed that Snape averted his eyes with a pained grimace.

Hermione decided to interrupt him before he could get carried away. Honestly, she was a bit surprised by his words. He wasn't exactly renowned for being selfless, but this was clearly just another way that he was slowly changing.

"Don't. Please Draco, we've been over this. I'm going to help you! That's my first priority. Then, once you're safe from You-Know-Who... well, I guess we'll deal with that when we get there."

He nodded a bit shyly, squeezing her hands as well before returning his gaze to Snape who was studiously examining the nearest tree.

"Alright. What do we need to do?"

The older wizard turned back their way, stepping forward and making sure he gave them his darkest, most threatening look.

"Firstly, you can stop roaming around Hogsmeade like you own the place. It's reckless and you're only going to get yourselves killed once the Death Eaters are assigned here to guard the castle when school term starts. From now on you will read, study, prepare ingredients, brew and monitor. You will live and breathe this potion. And most importantly you will _stay indoors._"

"Constant vigilance," Hermione muttered and she heard Draco snort in amusement next to her.

"Oh and one more thing, Draco…" Snape grumbled, ignoring her joke and giving them both another fierce glare, his eyes finally settling on his godson with a degree of weariness, "You can't do this alone. Keep her close. Always."

…

…

…

There was an awkward pause between them as they stood either side of the bed that night. A fierce wind was howling outside, battering the sloped walls of their little attic room. The wooden slats moaned in complaint. Draco watched as the curly haired witch opposite him distracted herself by turning down the quilt and straightening the crooked end of the sheet, even though it really didn't need it. He cleared his throat, running his hand self-consciously through his hair, which was still slightly damp from an earlier shower.

"So… have you seen anything in the mirror yet?" he asked clumsily, wondering whether he should make the first move and get into bed but he was feeling too nervous for some reason. Maybe it was because he could feel his body buzzing with the desire to kiss her again. He tried to remind himself that she might not want to keep kissing him. She might have changed her mind. They weren't together or anything. He was only just starting to admit to himself that he might not hate her after all and that actually she was quite…lovely. But he shouldn't make the mistake of assuming she was starting to feel the same way. He saw her sigh out a long, sad breath.

"It moved earlier," she told him quietly, "But I think maybe it was just knocked off the table. Now there seems to be some blankets blocking it or something."

Draco nodded and sidled closer to tug down the sheets. He noticed that Hermione didn't move. She seemed to be lost in thought as she spun that gold coin around in her fingers. He cleared his throat, trying to get her attention but she was in a bit of a daze.

"Hermione?" he prompted. She blinked and glanced up at him with those big brown eyes, which looked darker than ever in the dim flickering light of the single candle in the room.

"Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts."

"Are you coming to bed?" he asked before instantly regretting it, noticing the slight edge of desperation that tinged his voice. Hermione turned a pretty shade of pink and gave him a timid smile.

"Yes, of course. Let me just… she reached into her bag and withdrew a brush, before sliding onto the bed next to Draco. Her hair was still quite damp from an earlier shower and she probably knew better than to let it dry without taming it a bit. He remembered Pansy complaining about that on the rare occasions when he'd actually listen to her whiny voice. Otherwise the curls would be totally unmanageable, she'd said. And yet Pansy's hair had always been spelled straight as a curtain the next morning so he wasn't sure why she bothered. As Draco got himself comfortable, he watched as she began to wrestle the brush through the worst of the tangles. Luckily her hair was wet enough that it managed to pull through fairly smoothly. She looked over to the side and saw him watching the progress of the brush intently. Draco swallowed, feeling a sudden wave of courage seize him.

"May I?" he asked a bit tenuously, holding out his hand for the brush. Hermione smiled shyly and gave it to him, turning her back so that he could reach her hair more easily. He slid forwards on the bed until he was pressed behind her. Feeling her so close was more than a little intoxicating. With a nervous hand he brought the brush up to her hair and started running it down her curls just like he'd seen her doing before. The brown locks of hair cascaded through his fingers, softer than he'd thought possible. Everything about Hermione was soft. There was also something unexpectedly erotic about brushing her hair. It felt more intimate than just touching hands or hugging. He saw her skin prickle and she let out a sigh. Maybe he wasn't the only one affected. After a while, Draco noted that the brush was just gliding through the hair easily now. He kept going because it felt soothing, not because her hair was tangled. But after several minutes continuing in this fashion, he realised he wanted more. All day he found himself thinking about what happened last night. Even when they were talking to Snape, his attention just kept getting drawn to her, obsessing over her lips and her fingers and her neck and anywhere else his eyes landed.

Knowing he had to at least try, Draco grasped her shoulders gently and turned her around to face his direction.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, clearly noticing the agonised grimace on his features. They were sitting centimetres apart. He felt like he was falling further and further into her brown eyes. All these years he had tried _so_ hard to hate her, but it had always been a pointless exercise in self-denial. Everything about Hermione was desirable to him. Narrowing the distance between them slowly, Draco whispered his dearest wish, his voice cracking as he did.

"I want to kiss you again…more than _anything_," he told her seriously. He waited as she absorbed his words, but she didn't leave him in suspense for too long, nodding her consent. And then his mouth was on hers and his body was on fire.

They snogged for a long time then, just exploring each other's mouths. He particularly liked it when she stroked his bottom lip with her tongue. He returned the gesture, until suddenly their tongues brushed against one another and his body tightened with shock. He chased hers further, wanting to prolong the feeling. And then her tongue was in his mouth too and his eyes rolled back into his head. He hadn't realised that kissing could feel even _better._

After a while, Hermione drew back slowly. The two of them were panting heavily. Draco's restless hands were tracing patterns along the column of her neck and her shoulders as he tried to catch his breath.

He knew he was hard again and was worried that she'd feel it against her. She had practically crawled her way into his lap after all. Then he wondered what she'd actually do if she did feel it and he shivered. His mind raced as he imagined her touching him _there _and he gasped.

"Are you okay?" she asked, clearly becoming worried when his face turned an embarrassing shade of red. He grit his teeth and nodded, not able to bring himself to speak. But he subtly tried to shift his body away from hers. Hermione's hand on his knee stopped him in his tracks. Her fingers tickled his leg and eased a little further up his thigh. Draco exhaled a heavy breath through his teeth, ending in a slight groan. Hermione watched him curiously. Her brown eyes glanced down to his groin and back. He held his breath.

"Do you want me to touch you…_there_?"

Draco swallowed. His mouth was bone dry and the nerves in the pit of his stomach felt raw and hot.

He nodded.

Hermione smiled a bit shyly and leaned forwards. Her breath was minty and sweet as she kissed him again. He tried to focus on the feel of her lips and not the way her hand was wandering up his thigh. She moved to unbutton the pyjamas he'd transfigured for himself a few days ago. As she did, her fingers stroked ever so lightly over the hard length of his cock. A groan escaped him. He nibbled eagerly on her bottom lip, urging her on unconsciously.

"Can I…?" she murmured against his mouth, tugging on the hem of his trousers. He nodded enthusiastically, and then she was opening up the front and he could suddenly feel cold air on his cock. He watched nervously as she looked down at it for a long moment, before she seemed to rally herself and wrapped one dainty little hand around the length.

Draco felt his whole body stiffen and go rigid at the incredible sensation. He released a frankly rather pitiful whimper, revelling in just how much better it felt than when he touched himself.

_Just calm down, _he told himself, clenching his eyes shut to stem the onslaught of sensations threatening to overwhelm him, _Just breathe…_

How had he not known that it would feel this amazing to have someone else touching him in a…sexual way? Of course he'd heard all the salacious gossip in the Slytherin common room over the years, even though he'd always personally stayed too aloof to form these kinds of relationships himself with other students. But his poor touch deprived spirit had never been able to imagine the reality facing him now as he throbbed under her touch.

Hermione was extremely gentle at first as she just stroked his skin, mapping the shape of his cock with her fingers. But then she wrapped her hand around him properly once more and applied pressure.

_Mother fucker…_

He clenched his jaw and screwed his eyes shut. Hermione started to move. She pumped him once, twice, three times and then…

Draco came, his mouth dropping open as he released a long, throaty groan. The pleasure had shot through him like a spark of electricity. He couldn't have stopped it even if he'd tried. His world narrowed down completely to just that feeling of total, all-consuming bliss. He felt the stickiness of his release on his skin. His eyes shot open, staring down in alarm and embarrassment at the sight of his white seed dripping over her hand and running down his softening length. Not that he minded the almost primitive, exciting sight of it coating her fingers, but he was more than a little mortified by how quickly he came.

Before he could stammer an apology or make any kind of comment on what had happened, Hermione was bouncing from the bed and racing from the room. Draco blinked, feeling awkward and ashamed. Had he done something wrong? He hurriedly fixed himself back up inside his pants. It had been fucking amazing for him, but was she angry that he hadn't been able to control himself? He felt flushed and uncomfortable as he wondered whether he should go after her. But before he could make up his mind, the curly haired witch sidled back into the room. Draco breathed a small sigh of relief when he saw that she had merely left to fetch a warm, damp towel from the bathroom. She gave him a sweet little half smile as she returned to the bed. He noticed she'd already cleaned her hands. With slightly pink cheeks he did the same, wiping his stomach, which was still a bit sticky, before sitting back up against the headboard.

There was a bit of a pause then as they both contemplated each other. He was glad when Hermione shifted closer to sit next to him. But he still couldn't meet her eyes. After all the touching they'd shared the last few days, he'd barely lasted more than a few seconds when she'd put her hand on him.

"Did you enjoy it?" she asked softly, an almost academic look of curiosity on her face. He realised she seemed a little self-conscious as well and he wondered faintly whether this was her first time doing something like this too.

"Very much," he whispered, feeling better now that they were sitting closer to each other and her expression was so open and kind.

"I think you'll get more used to being touched over time," she told him thoughtfully. Draco smiled a bit cheekily, relaxing more when she leaned her head gently on his shoulder.

"Does that mean we need to practice?" he asked wryly. He heard Hermione chuckle.

"Absolutely," she replied, "and who knows, maybe next time _you _can be the one who touches _me._"

Draco dropped his head back to lean against the wall. He closed his eyes and tried not let himself get too carried away as he imagined pressing his fingers to her wet, pink centre. He failed to stifle his groan at the image. Hermione tilted her head to peer up at him.

"Draco?" she queried, looking confused by his almost pained expression.

"Yes," he replied a bit too quickly, "definitely next time."

He could hardly hide his eagerness for the idea. Hermione grinned in amusement, tucking her head back against his shoulder. Draco wrapped one arm around her, pulling her closer into his embrace.

Even though he'd just spent himself all over Hermione's hand, he felt his cock twitch a bit in excitement at the prospect of bringing her the same pleasure he'd just felt. It'd never occurred to him before that he might crave the idea of exploring another person so intimately. He'd honesty never considered it much before this moment. But suddenly all he could think about was how she would feel against his fingers, what sounds she'd make, what she'd taste like.

With a smug smile, Draco realised that between Snape's guidance about how to rid himself of his dark mark and Hermione's actions this afternoon, he had never felt more optimistic. Things were finally starting to go right for him and for the first time in years he thought that maybe, if he were very lucky, he might just survive this nightmare and come out on top.

…

…

…

**Hope you enjoyed these lemons! Let me know with your reviews! **


	10. Chapter Ten

**Okay, so people seemed to enjoy the lemons. But now some things need to be resolved. Onwards! As always, JKR is definitely the true founder of Hogwarts, not me sadly.**

**…**

**Chapter Ten**

…

…

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, toying with one jagged edge of the mirror in her hand. She had been contemplating the glass for a while now. Draco was still sleeping peacefully behind her and she hadn't had the heart to wake him. Glancing back, she saw that his face was slack and he was looking almost cute as he slept. She smiled as she thought of what had occurred between them last night. It had been too tempting to resist touching Draco and bringing him pleasure. He'd been so shy but also so stimulated. It had filled her with a sense of feminine pride that she could incite such a reaction in him.

Her thoughts wandered a bit dazedly to what had happened later during the night and she couldn't stop her pulse from speeding up a little. Hermione had been woken by a faint groaning sound to her right, and movement against the mattress. Blearily she had turned to look at Draco. His limbs had been twisting awkwardly and his face was scrunched up in what looked like pain. Hermione leaned in and murmured his name, shaking his shoulder gently. After a while he jolted awake, looking desperately around the dark space as though there was a shadow snapping at his heels. She had whispered reassurances, letting him know he was safe and that she was here. He must have been having a dreadful nightmare. She couldn't blame him. To have lived for so long amongst the death eaters, and to have witnessed the terrible things going on in his own home, she was surprised he hadn't broken down in his sleep before now. Maybe having a warm body next to him recently had started to help ease the tension somewhat.

But not tonight.

Draco finally got used to his surroundings, calming down and letting her sooth his frayed nerves. Just like that evening in the hospital wing, she stroked his hair and murmured encouragement until he was awake and fully conscious again.

What he did next took her by surprise. Draco had grasped her curls in his hands, drawing her towards him and urgently pressing his lips to hers with bruising force. She had whimpered against his mouth. Even though it had probably only been a few hours since she had made him come, it wasn't long before she felt him, hard and heavy against her stomach.

"I want to touch you," he murmured against her lips. She understood implicitly without needing to ask him what was going through his head. He had dreamed of terrible things; pain and suffering and feeling trapped with no escape. And now he wanted to feel softness, pleasure; _her _pleasure. He needed to know that he could do something right, something tender, for another person. Hermione nodded her assent. She guided him as he tugged her transfigured pyjama bottoms and underwear off her hips and down her legs, having to feel their way in the darkness. His hands were trembling as though he were itching to touch her. Hermione was breathing heavily by the time she took his hand and placed his fingers against her centre. She was aroused, both from the desperation of his movements and the lingering effects from their earlier interaction.

"You're…wet," he croaked.

"Uhuh," she agreed breathlessly as his fingers began gliding over her pink centre. She let him explore for a while, feeling the way he moaned and panted warm breaths against her collarbone. Touching the back of his fingers gently, she began to direct his movements. Slow, steady circles against her clit sent tremors of electricity up her spine and down to her toes. Hermione whined softly, squirming against his fingers. She moved her hand away, letting him take over. Instead she wound them both into his hair and held on.

Draco took to his task with intent focus. He kept his pace even and occasionally increased the pressure. His eyes had been clenched shut the entire time as he shook against her smaller frame. When it became too much, Hermione had whispered, "inside, please…" and Draco had obliged with a groan of longing.

Twisting his hand, he pressed a finger to her opening and slowly let the digit sink in to the knuckle. Between the dual sensations of his thumb moving on her clit and that first stretch of her walls, Hermione couldn't hold back the wave as it crashed over her. Her muscles tightened and she gripped Draco close to her body, shuddering. Distantly she could remember hearing the blond boy whispering curses against her skin. Then they had both sagged down, falling into a boneless pile of limbs as sleep had once again clouded her senses.

Now Hermione smiled down at her blond companion again, his features pale in the early morning light that was just barely peaking into the attic. She was definitely excited to see where this was going, she realised with a dull tingle in her navel. People might think she was crazy; he was Draco Malfoy, the consummate prince of Slytherin, after all. But she had come to rather like his intensity and how eager he seemed to be to try new things. She'd never had a chance to appreciate before how smart he actually was and she was coming to admire his dry, sarcastic humour. He actually made her laugh. Somehow his biting comments were more entertaining when they were tinged with fondness and he could be as sharp as a whip when it came to insulting others too. But what made her really like him was that sometimes, when she caught him in the right mood, he seemed to really care about her. She remembered how he had worried about her after they read that article in the Daily Prophet and he'd even brought her dinner too. He was always respectful of her space in their shared bedroom. And he listened to her. How many people in her life had ever actually listened when she talked about magical theories or potions? How many people enjoyed discussing the origin of spells or what reforms were needed in the ministry of magic? Draco took her seriously and didn't just dismiss her views or brush her off by calling her a bookworm.

Hermione sighed, smiling down at the blond head of hair that had gone all scruffy sometime during the night. She also found herself incredibly attracted to him, which helped. There hadn't really been anyone since Krum in her fourth year, but somehow she found herself, totally out of the blue, just mindlessly dwelling on the thought of his cool, soft lips all the time. He might not have any prior experience but he more than made up for it with natural instincts and a kind of focused eagerness.

Something caught Hermione's eye at that moment and she blushed, shoving the thoughts aside quickly. She gripped the mirror in two hands and held it up to the faint morning light coming into the room. There was definitely movement on the other side. Narrowing her eyes, Hermione willed whoever it was to look at the mirror and see her.

"Hermnne?" Draco grumbled in a long groan from behind her on the bed as he started to slowly wake up, his voice half muffled by the pillow.

"Shhh…" she hushed him distractedly, gripping the crooked piece of dark glass and trying to figure out what she was seeing. Behind her she heard Draco sitting up gradually and peering over her shoulder.

What appeared before her in the mirror was strange. She tilted her head to the side, noticing that a shadowy figure moving around. Blankets were jostled over the top of the surface of the glass and she saw things being thrown around haphazardly. But it was too dark to make it out.

At first she wondered if it were Harry or Ron. Based on the movements it looked like they might be hastily packing up their belongings. Were they going somewhere? She had hoped that they would stay at the Burrow for a little while. Now that the Weasley property had been warded up again after the night of the seven Potters, she had no way of getting inside. But at least it was a safe place for the boys to plan their next move while they waited for her return.

"Come on," Hermione muttered, "look this way."

She just needed a moment to glimpse them. Then they would know what had happened to her. Then she could remind Harry about the galleon and she could send him a message.

A large hand came into sight. It was tugging clothes and bed sheets apart, inspecting the items on the bed. Then the tips of the person's fingers touched the surface of the mirror and they froze. Hermione felt a wave of relief. Finally she'd get to see Harry or Ron.

"That's it," she encouraged softly as they pulled the object completely free from the bed and held it up closer to the light. Behind her she was aware of Draco's hand, still warm from sleep, pressing against her lower back in a supportive gesture.

But it wasn't Harry _or _Ron.

It wasn't even one of the other Weasleys.

She recognised the room all right. Draco had been spot on when he identified the Cannons logo on the curtains. The lurid orange walls were a dead giveaway. But it wasn't her friends who appeared, peering into the mirror from the other side.

It was Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Hermione frowned. She narrowed her eyes and watched with trepidation as he blinked and looked at the glass in shock. He obviously hadn't been expecting to see _her _there. The feeling was mutual. But why was Kingsley rummaging through the boys' things? Something felt really wrong here.

"Wait…isn't he that guy who was with you on the thestral?"

Hermione nodded absentmindedly, her frown fixed on the reflection in front of her. Slowly Kingsley seemed to realise what, or who, he was seeing. He cocked his head to the side and examined her and she did the same. She had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. There was something truly underhanded about his manner; the way he had been furtively rifling through Ron's room and the secretive flickering of his eyes towards the door. Her confused frown turned into a scowl. This was the same wizard who had been so busy getting a thestral under control that he hadn't spared a thought for the wandless young witch hurtling through the sky as she plummeted to her death.

He obviously took his cue from the expression of distrust on her face. Because in the next moment his lips stretched into a dark, twisted smile. It wasn't a warm look. He certainly wasn't pleasantly surprised to see her alive or anything. It was a devious smirk and more than a little menacing.

"What the fuck…" Draco muttered. Hermione jumped a little bit in surprise, remembering that he was still behind her. She realised for the first time that Kingsley would definitely have a partial view of the two of them sitting there. Which meant he would probably be able to surmise that Draco had helped her. That they were hiding out somewhere together. And from what she could see, that wasn't a good thing.

Her mind was reeling. Was Kingsley… could it be possible? Had he been loyal to Voldemort all this time? Or had there been some horrible mistake?

Kingsley seemed to pick up on her panicked thoughts. He gave her a sinister little wave before she saw the whole room blurring in a haze of speed as the mirror fragment was flung through the air. It splintered against the wall and then the glass turned black.

Hermione jerked backwards, blinking and staring down at the mirror in horror. It was completely blank.

"Wh…what…?" she stammered in disbelief.

"What the hell just happened? Isn't that guy on _your _side?"

She nodded numbly, turning to stare at Draco. He looked bewildered. She opened her mouth a few times but couldn't seem to find the words. Eventually she managed to string together a sentence.

"Draco… could you tell me what you saw that night you saved me from falling?"

The blond boy raised one eyebrow curiously. But he nodded and reached forwards tentatively to touch her wrist in a comforting gesture. She smiled shakily at him, encouraging the action. They linked hands as he spoke.

"Well, you were flying away from the battle, but the thestral you were on kept weaving in and out of the clouds a bit erratically."

"Like a defensive manoeuvre?"

"Maybe, I guess… only there was nobody around. I remember wondering why you didn't just go straight ahead, which would have been quicker. I was trying to avoid any conflict myself so I distinctly recall wishing you'd just hurry up."

"You knew it was me?"

"You'd started transforming back. The hair was unmistakeable," he smiled, tugging on the end of one curl and she rolled her eyes.

"What then?" she prompted urgently, the uneasy feeling in her gut only getting worse as she absorbed what had just happened.

"Well, then another death eater showed up. I think it was Rowle. You had already noticed me. I think you were distracted and he hit you."

"I remember that part. Hurt like hell," she commented with pursed lips.

"Then that bulky auror pulled on the thestral's rope and it veered upwards. But somehow it turned so that Rowle got a clearer shot at you. I was…" he sighed heavily, "I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Your wand was splintered and then the next second you were hit. And then you were falling."

"And what did Kingsley do?"

"He got the thestral under control and then I think he went after Rowle."

"He didn't try and help me?"

Draco frowned. He seemed to contemplate her question, his face dawning with realisation at the same she felt that swooping sick feeling intensify in her gut.

"Not really….no. But by that point I guess I was too preoccupied choosing what _I _should do to really pay it much attention."

Hermione swallowed, a painful lump growing in her throat as things fell into place in her mind.

"That horrible…unbelievable…_bastard!_" she shouted, her voice cracking as she tightened her hands into fists. She wanted to cry. It wasn't fair. She'd been set up. It all made sense now. Why her so called protector hadn't bothered to fly after her, why that death eater had been given such an easy shot at her when _she _was the one riding in front, supposedly concealed behind the weight of the auror's body. The Daily Prophet's lies. And now his suspicious appearance in the mirror? There was only one conclusion.

He'd conspired to have her killed.

"So wait… you think that son of a bitch is a death eater?" Draco mumbled, stunned. He shook his head incredulously, gripping her hand just that little bit tighter even though it was furled into a white knuckled fist now. Hermione drew in a long shaky breath. She could only imagine what that vile traitor must have thought when he couldn't find her body later. He'd probably been one of the figures circling above when she had apparated away with Draco. The thought that they had ultimately ruined his plan brought her a savage sense of glee. But the feeling didn't last long.

"Shit," she breathed, horrified as her thoughts crystallised all at once and something occurred to her. The sudden shock eased away into a sense of dread.

"What?"

She clasped Draco's hand and looked at him with dismay.

"Harry and Ron. He's done something to them. Or he's _going_ to do something."

"You think so?"

"Why else would that slimy cockroach be rummaging through their things?" she asked angrily, "Why would he smash the mirror?"

Draco narrowed his eyes in thought.

"You think he's going to harm them?"

"I…I don't know!" she pressed her hands to her face, nails digging into her cheeks.

"Is there any way you can warn them?" Draco asked, and she was surprised to see the genuine concern on his face. It was probably the first time he'd ever been worried about Harry Potter's wellbeing.

"Harry hasn't looked at his coin!" she moaned, "We used them so long ago I don't even know if he kept it. And now the mirror is smashed. I don't know what to do!"

"Well…" Draco contemplated her pensively for a second, before his eyes glanced shyly over at his wand sitting on the bedside table, "If I give you my wand, could you apparate there?"

"No," she sighed sadly, "they always reset the secrecy wards at the Burrow every few days to keep it protected. I haven't been in contact with anyone so I wouldn't be able to get access now."

Hermione paused and suddenly smiled sweetly at the blond boy sitting next to her on the bed. It was weird, but even amidst her panic her heart had room to flutter strangely at his words.

"But…um... thank you for offering your wand. I know how hard that must have been to even suggest it when there's no guarantee I'd bring it back."

He nodded stiffly, not meeting her eye. She saw that there was a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks and she realised he was blushing.

"Yeh, well…I trust you," he mumbled shyly, running a hand through his blond hair, which was still a bit messy from sleep. Hermione felt a warm tingle of happiness at his statement. But she sobered quickly.

"Argh! If only there was a way to get a message to them!"

She buried her head in her hands, feeling frustrated and helpless. As she tried to slow her breathing, she felt Draco stroke her back tenderly in comfort and she leaned into his warmth.

"We'll think of something," he reassured her quietly, "and in the meantime, let's not forget that Potter has a remarkable talent for avoiding his own mortality."

Hermione snorted, appreciating that he was trying even though she hated herself right now for not being by their side. Her boys needed her and she was wandless and stuck so far away. Not that she regretted being with Draco or helping him. After discovering Kingsley's betrayal, she clearly wouldn't be here if it weren't for Draco's direct intervention. But she was torn in two by the sense of duty she felt to her friends and the new bond she had forged with the Slytherin. If only she could be in two places at once, she groaned to herself. Hermione sunk further into Draco's arms, burying her head against his chest and squeezing her eyes shut. For now she could only keep wishing and hoping that Harry and Ron would be safe and that for once in their lives they'd think rationally instead of impulsively.

She also prayed that Kingsley Shackelbolt would somehow choke on his own pumpkin juice and die. But that was probably unlikely.

…

…

…

As a pandemonium of spells ricocheted around them, Harry scanned the crowd desperately for a glimpse of his red headed friend. Ron had been right here just a little while ago, so where in Merlin's name did he go?

Bill and Fleur's wedding had turned into a monumental disaster. There had been no warning at all and then suddenly chaos. Death Eaters had arrived in overwhelming numbers, and once again Harry found himself fleeing for his life. He had managed to fight his way to the side of the burning tent and was darting behind the champagne table when he spotted his friend. Ron was bolting towards him, something bulky and brown gripped in his hand. It was a satchel of some kind. Harry sprinted in his direction, meeting him halfway.

"Where were you?" he yelled to his friend over the shouts of wizards and witches from both sides. A bright red spell sizzled past his left ear and the two of them ducked down behind the table.

"I had to get _this_," Ron panted, holding up the bag in one hand.

"But wha-"

"No time to explain, Harry," his friend interrupted urgently, "we need to get the bloody hell out of here."

Harry nodded and held up his wand. The two of them grasped hands and he closed his eyes. He really hoped he didn't stuff this up, but out of the two of them he was definitely the more capable of performing the apparition spell. Ron had been terrible at it during lessons. He tried to picture that squeaky little ministry wizard.

_Deliberation…destination…um….de….de…_

He couldn't remember the third word or even the order. But it didn't matter. Focusing all his thoughts on where he wanted to go, Harry snapped his wand and heard the loud crack that meant he'd been successful. There was a pinching, rushing feeling all around them, pounding through their ears, and then suddenly silence.

He peeked one eye open, checking to make sure they weren't halfway off a cliff or anything, and breathed a sigh of relief. Opening his eyes, he inspected himself and Ron and they were both intact.

"That was…horrible," Ron commented, his face turning a sickly shade of green. Harry nodded, knowing how terrible side-along felt, having done it before with Dumbledore. Plus he was fairly certain it would have been ever rougher with _him _casting the spell than their former headmaster.

"Any limbs missing?"

Ron examined himself.

"Nope. Although the nail on my left pinky is slightly shorter than before."

He held it up and Harry saw that it was indeed sliced down to only half a fingernail.

"Sorry, mate."

Ron shrugged in response and looked around at the brick walls on either side of them.

"So… where are we?"

"London. Somewhere near the zoo I think. It was the first place I could think of."

He noticed that Ron was looking troubled. His skin was paler than usual, making his freckles stand out in stark contrast.

"You alright mate?" he asked.

"Yeh…" Ron sighed, his face scrunched up with anxiety, "I just…I hope my family's okay."

Harry nodded, his stomach dropping too as he wondered if everyone got out okay. He closed his eyes. He tried really hard not to think about what had happened to Ginny. She'd been dancing with one of her brothers when it all began…

His eyes snapped open.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice strained, "how did the death eaters get through the wards?"

"Dunno," Ron muttered, frowning as well, "Dad said only a few people were able to alter the wards. And after Scrimgeour's visit I'm pretty sure he revoked the ministry's access entirely."

Harry pursed his lips as he wondered whether someone had been captured or tortured by the death eaters and forced to give them entrance through the wards. But nobody had been missing from the wedding had they? Then he scowled as the most obvious suspicion again crossed his mind.

"Was Kingsley one of them?"

"What?"

"Did Kingsley have…er…_permission_ to change the wards?"

Ron looked at him, appalled.

"Yeh…yeh I think he did. _Damnit_!"

Harry ran his hands through his messy hair, angrily pacing the short width of the alleyway.

"You really think there's something up with him?" Ron asked uncertainly and he nodded slowly.

"I don't know for sure. But you should have heard the way he spoke about Hermione. It was… creepy."

Ron nodded, leaning against the brick wall behind him.

"So what… Kingsley's a traitor? A spy?"

"Maybe. I was going to talk to your dad after the wedding about it but…well, that didn't work out as planned. We were attacked before I had the chance."

There was a brief silence as they both considered the implications of Kingsley having possibly betrayed them and their poor friend.

"Oh shit," Ron hissed suddenly, fingering the strap of his brown bag nervously as his eyes widened.

"What's wrong?"

"Well, the reason I left when the death eaters arrived was to fetch _this_," he held the bag aloft. It was kind of lumpy and scuffed around the edges.

"And? What's in it?"

Ron grimaced and tightened his grip on the strap, drawing it close.

"I…er…I kept thinking…about what she…what Hermione would want us to do. What _she_ would have done."

Harry could tell that this was really hard for his friend to say. He looked pained as he spoke.

"And I could just hear her bossy voice saying _Ron we need to be prepared. We need to be organised. Just in case. _So when you were all setting up for the wedding this afternoon, I packed everything we might need into this bag and left it under those loose floorboards in my room so mum wouldn't find it."

Harry was quiet for a while as he absorbed Ron's forlorn demeanour and he looked down at the bag between them.

"That was really smart, Ron," he told him softly.

His red haired friend nodded brusquely. But then he raised his head, his face still twisted with a look of outrage.

"Yeh but I almost forgot in all the chaos, when I went to grab it… someone had trashed my room!"

"What?" he spluttered.

"I was rushing to get the bag, but the room had been pulled apart as though someone was looking for something."

"You sure it wasn't your mum?"

"Nah she was busy in the kitchen all day!"

Harry swallowed, his mind racing.

"You think Kinglsey might have…?"

"It's possible. He was at the wedding, but do you remember seeing him after they cut the cake? When the dancing started?"

With a frown, Harry ran through the celebration in his head up until the moment the death eaters arrived and attacked the Burrow. Early on, he'd been keeping his eye on the auror. Kingsley had been acting fairly normally but Harry just didn't trust him anymore. He had been brooding about his suspicions and didn't want to let the man out of his sight. But something had distracted him. Elphias Doge, he realised, talking about his memories of the Dumbledore family. And Ron was right; Kingsley hadn't been around during the dancing when it started. His hulking figure wasn't exactly hard to miss.

"That evil fucking git," Harry growled, slamming his palm into the brick wall of the alley, "What the hell was he looking for?"

Ron gripped the bag close to his chest.

"Luckily whatever it was, I'd probably already hidden it."

"What about the snitch Dumbledore left me?" he asked worriedly. Knowing the old headmaster, there was probably some kind of significance to it, not just a memento. And Kingsley may have been snooping around to find out what Dumbledore had left him in his will. They had deliberately kept it a secret after all.

Ron opened the bag and pushed some things around searchingly. It was definitely packed in a messy way, just like his suitcase every year they went to Hogwarts. His ginger haired friend had never mastered the art of folding or arranging his belongings neatly.

"Got it," he murmured, drawing the snitch out to show him.

"My cloak?"

"Yep."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He mentally ran through a list of what else he might need. Ron recounted the rest of the bag's contents as he did. But then he frowned.

"You know what's weird? I was going to borrow Perkins's tent off dad. But I couldn't find it. I wonder if…well…"

"You think Hermione had already packed it?"

"Maybe. That's the kind of thing she would've thought of. I was also missing a couple of old jumpers and pants of mine I was going to pack for the both of us. I found some spares in the laundry basket, but…well…I wonder whether she had everything ready to go as well."

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

"You said yourself that Hermione would've wanted us to be prepared. Maybe she already was."

"Yeh, I think so," Ron scratched his head absent-mindedly, "I guess she never got a chance to finish packing."

A weight settled in Harry's chest and he let out a long, steadying breath. He wanted to say something comforting, but didn't know how. As he thought of what they'd lost, he briefly remembered Sirius. That was when something else occurred to him and he gestured to the brown bag.

"What about my mirror?" he asked.

"Huh?" Ron looked at him in confusion.

"That mirror Sirius gave me in fifth year when we were staying at Grimmauld place. I broke it…but I still had one piece left."

Ron shook his head slowly.

"I didn't see it when I was packing. Sorry mate. Maybe it's still in my bedroom."

Harry's shoulders slumped, regretting the loss of that one sliver of glass that he had cherished all these months; the last thing Sirius had given him before he died. Yet another person who had lost their life because they were close to _him_.

"Oh but I found that galleon from fifth year. The DA, remember?" Ron scrunched his brow up as though he couldn't quite bear the memory, "Damn she was…so bloody clever," he whispered.

Harry's stomach was tight with nausea as he nodded in agreement. They were on the run and had just escaped a battle, but even now the grief was so agonising to them both.

"Can I see it?" he asked curiously, wondering whether anything would have changed given what had happened to the witch who'd enchanted it. Ron fished out the galleon and pressed it into his friend's palm. It was surprisingly warm to touch. The coin itself was unaltered; it still had the slightly tarnished gold appearance of a regular galleon. But as he turned it around in his fingers, he frowned as his eyes traced over the numbers around its edge.

"Ron…look at this."

The red haired boy peered over his shoulder, observing the same sequence of numbers and humming in puzzlement.

"That's different."

"Yeh," Harry noted quietly, "It's not a date. It was _always_ a date and time. Do you think it returned to a normal coin sequencing system after…after she…"

His voice trailed off. He couldn't finish the sentence.

"No," Ron pursed his lips as he examined it, "normal wizarding coins have one long number, and the print is not usually this large."

Harry wasn't exactly surprised that Ron was so familiar with the appearance of a normal galleon. He had always been much more fastidious about money given that the Weasleys were rather poor.

"So what does it mean? Could it be from someone else in the DA?"

Harry shook his head.

"Nah. She collected the rest back after Marietta was cursed. Anyway, the charm Hermione used could only be controlled from the original coin, remember? Ours were spelled to just show we'd received messages."

"So…what…er…"

Harry frowned, wondering what this meant. He considered the pattern of numbers for a while, noticing that there were gaps between certain numerals. They were all under about 25. He started to wonder…

"If this is a message then these numbers might represent letters…" he began, following his theory. He had never been good at math but could do the basic count on his fingers. Before he even got to the end of the numbers, the word started to come together. His eyes widened.

"What? Harry, what is it?" Ron pressed him eagerly.

His breathing shortened and he felt a dry crackling sensation in his throat that was more than a little painful. He tried to swallow but his mouth wouldn't cooperate. Surely not… there had to be some kind of mistake. But it was the only solution he could think of. Heart pounding with adrenalin, he raised his eyes to meet Ron's inquisitive gaze.

"Ron…I think she's alive."

…

…

…

**Well… there you go! Things are going down now. Please leave reviews, the really do inspire me to write and help me figure out where to take this.**


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Interestingly a couple of reviewers commented about whether Hermione could just send a message using a patronus – and I actually thought of this, but then I wondered whether any of them knew how to do this so early in Deathly Hallows. Hermione only mentions later in the book that she's working on how to do the messenger spell, but with everything going on I don't think she'd be quite there yet in ****_my_**** story. So I'm working under the assumption that she can't do it – and Aberforth has no contact with anyone from the Order at this point so far. Anyway… that's my explanation. But bloody magic makes it so hard to keep Hermione isolated for the purpose of the narrative haha!**

**Well now we have some potion to make! So onwards and forwards and…upwards? Enjoy. As always JKR created this, not me sadly.**

…

**Chapter Eleven**

…...

…

Hermione was trying to concentrate on chopping ingredients, but the lips brushing against the nape of her neck were posing a fairly significant distraction. She squirmed a bit as goose bumps prickled down her arms. The floodgates had certainly been opened in the last few hours. Draco's hands were stroking over the curve of her hips as he stood behind her, pressing sensual kisses to her shoulders and neck.

"Shouldn't you be…uh…slicing those lacewings?" her voice hitched halfway through the question as Draco's lips brushed a sensitive spot under her ear.

"I already finished," he told her smugly, continuing his actions.

All morning now, the blond Slytherin had been very needy. He had wanted to keep touching her as often as possible, even just innocently sometimes. She didn't mind. Draco had clearly enjoyed what they had done together so far – so had _she_, Hermione thought with a pleased blush – and she couldn't blame him for wanting to prolong that intimacy which had so recently been introduced to him.

But that didn't mean he could get away with procrastinating. Certain parts of the potion were time sensitive after all, and those ingredients needed to be meticulously prepared.

"And the ashwinder eggs?" she pressed, trying to focus on her own preparations and not the way his thumb was gliding over the skin near her hip just below the hem of her jumper.

"Done."

Hermione spun around and glared at him.

"Then find something else to do!" she ordered primly, "I'm making a mess of these murtlap tentacles."

Draco smirked, pleased with himself.

"Am I distracting you?"

"Yes," she replied sulkily. He leaned forwards and kissed her thoroughly, making her disgruntled pout melt away slowly. But after a while she remembered what she was supposed to be doing and nipped at his bottom lip in warning.

"Fiiine!" he grumbled, still with a cheeky grin, moving away towards the other side of the storage room where a few sprigs of thyme sat waiting to be ground up. Earlier that morning she had used Draco's wand to convert the space into a temporary laboratory, with Aberforth's permission of course. Meanwhile Draco had gone to meet Snape in the forest again so that the new headmaster of Hogwarts could hand over some potions ingredients he'd gathered and a parchment of handwritten instructions.

It turned out the older man hadn't been kidding. It was a bloody complicated potion. Which was why Hermione knew that the most important thing was to be organised and not allow herself to lose focus.

She shook her head and continued dicing the tentacles steadily, making neat incisions with the knife she'd charmed to stay as sharp as possible. It was very lucky that Draco was okay with her sharing his wand; otherwise this would have been very difficult indeed. Many wizards would have refused to let her use it. Just more proof about how much he'd grown over the years without her even noticing.

As she was sliding the diced tentacles into a bowl ready for pickling, Hermione jumped in shock. A burning heat was spreading out from the front pocket of her jeans.

"Oh!" she exclaimed in excitement, wiping her hands clean and drawing the gold coin from her pocket. She stared down at it. Of course there was no change to its surface. Only she could send messages out from her original. But it had been charmed to turn warm when the recipient pressed their thumb to the centre of their own galleon. The numbers stood out stark against the tarnished coin, and it was still unnaturally hot. She smiled.

"They got it! They got my message!"

Draco hurried over.

"Really? That's fantastic – they'll know the truth!"

"I certainly hope so."

"Will you send something else?"

Hermione thought about it for a while, staring pensively down at the coin. Eventually she took Draco's wand gingerly from the bench top nearby and pressed the tip to the surface. She focused on her message until the numbers appeared, glimmering and embossed around the perimeter of the coin.

"What does it say?" Draco asked.

"I wrote out S_afe _and then_ Be Good,_" she told him with a grin. Draco chuckled and shook his head, both of them thinking that her friends would definitely know it was her sending the message. Bossy but caring. That was Hermione in a nutshell. She continued to smile as she pocketed the coin once more. Hermione had been so worried that the boys still thought she was dead. Obviously that Daily Prophet article had been total bollocks but it may have led them to believe that she had died that night. Plunging from a thestral in mid air and then disappearing without a trace was definitely strong grounds to think that she was no longer alive.

"What now?" Draco asked curiously. Hermione's grin widened.

"Now we finish your potion," she told him neatly, sidestepping him and moving to light a flame under the cauldron they had set up in one corner of the room.

"That's it? No big plan?"

She shook her head, before pushing her curls back off her face and trying to wrangle her hair into a long ponytail. Then she leaned over the cauldron and summoned five litres of water into the bottom.

"My priority is getting this potion finished as quickly as possible. _Then_ I'll figure out how to find Harry and Ron."

She saw Draco freeze for a long moment on the other side of the room. He seemed lost in thought. But eventually she watched him nod a bit sullenly and then he spun around to return to his own bench where he began tersely chopping ingredients. Hermione raised an eyebrow, wondering at the sudden shift in his mood. He was definitely sulking. But surely he wasn't angry about her wanting to reunite with her friends? By the time she even tried tracking them down, she was determined that his arm would be healed and he'd be safe. That was what he wanted right? So what was his problem?

With a sigh, she returned to stirring the water as bubbles grew. It didn't matter. Hermione just needed to focus on getting this potion done. Regardless of anything going on between them or what was happening in the outside world, this took precedence. He'd saved her life. Now it was her turn to save him. Until she accomplished that, her friends would just have to wait.

…

…

…

Lucius Malfoy had always controlled every aspect of his life obsessively. From his impressive fortune to the meticulous running of his household, not a detail had escaped his notice over the years. He kept tabs on all their servants, sought frequent comprehensive financial evaluations on how his various companies operated, oversaw the Hogwarts school board with a domineering eye and even managed to keep an iron grip on his sometimes-wayward son.

But that last one had all changed over the last year or so. Lucius wasn't exactly sure when things had started to go pear shaped for his family. He should have given the boy more attention. More supervision. He had left him to his own devices too often.

Draco had always been a regular source of disappointment. He'd had to buy his way into the Quidditch team, and even then managed to lose more often than not. And all throughout school that mudblood girl had bested him again and again. It was humiliating. He knew the other parents within their pureblood social circles had laughed behind their backs. After all, how powerful could one bushy haired little muggleborn be? And yet Draco had failed every single time. To make matters worse, when the Dark Lord had gloriously returned to their midst, it was like his son hadn't even cared. There had been no particularly strong gestures of loyalty or duty from the younger Malfoy heir. He'd been shockingly… _apathetic_ about the whole situation. He hadn't even had the balls to kill the foolish old headmaster as ordered. Snape had picked up the pieces in the end. In fact, on several occasions the boy had even refused to go on raids or missions organised by the death eaters. There were only so many times that Lucius could claim his son was unwell before people became suspicious. But it had been impossible to convince the boy to change his attitude no mattered how much he lectured him about his responsibilities.

Perhaps he'd been too easy on him as a child. Perhaps he should have acted sooner to repress those disobedient urges he'd noticed in the boy from a young age.

And now it was too late.

He stared up at the large auror with contempt filling his expression. Kingsley Shacklebolt, their secret collaborator and spy, had pulled him aside during the celebratory revel they'd thrown for successfully overthrowing the ministry. The huge, imposing man drew a silvery wisp of memory from his head. It flickered in the air between them. With a scowl, Lucius had listened to the man explain what he'd seen when he raided the Burrow last night. The image was of Kingsley's slightly blurry memory of a mirror he'd discovered that held the faces of two people in it.

"You recognise them?" the auror asked slyly.

Lucius certainly did. The first he knew from the small handful of times he'd seen her. Hermione Granger's features were distinctive enough that he could pick her from his own memory. And slightly behind her, sitting inappropriately close in his opinion, was his own son. Lucius swore under his breath. The ungrateful boy had disappeared during the mission to ambush Harry Potter as he left his relatives' house a few weeks ago. Personally, Lucius had rather hoped that his son had died. It was better than the alternatives. Though maybe they could recover some respect if he had been taken hostage by the Order. But that was clearly not the case.

They'd tried tracking the boy down, of course, but there had been something stopping them from locating his dark mark using blood magic. Hence the belief that he might have been killed. Dying in service to the Dark Lord wasn't so bad. At least they would maintain their sense of honour amongst the inner circle. But if Draco had run away and joined them? If his disappearance was linked with Hermione Granger's for some other, more insidious reason? Then the Malfoys were doomed. Lord Voldemort would not be pleased with him for raising such treacherous, muggle-loving spawn.

He watched the memory as his son murmured into the girl's ear, both of them looking confused. He could tell from their body language that they were quite comfortable around each other.

That whiny, pathetic little bastard. Was he _friends_ with the mudblood? Was his little piece of shit son the the reason she had managed to escape their clutches that night? It didn't bear thinking about. Such betrayal was unacceptable. Lucius had instilled a deep sense of Malfoy pride in the boy from a young age. He had taught him his place in the world, had passed on his knowledge of what being a good Slytherin meant. Why it was so important to keep the wizarding world pure. He had given the boy everything. He had groomed him to follow in his footsteps. And even though he'd had his doubts in the past about Draco's conviction to their cause, he had never believed it possible that such treachery could be lurking in the boy's heart.

And now he had turned his back on everything he owed to his family and to the Dark Lord. Lucius curled his hands into fists and growled low and threatening.

"It seems little Draco is not as loyal as you'd hoped, Lucius," Kinglsey taunted him with a dark smile.

"Enough," Lucius spat, brushing the memory away from the air with an impatient flick of his hand. He stepped in close to the auror and sneered, speaking in a menacing tone.

"I want to know the moment you hear anything. Even a whisper about where he might be or who he's with. If we can't track him then we will hunt him down."

"Very well," Kingsley agreed, "And if he has joined forces with the mudblood and the Order? What will you do with your wayward son then?"

Lucius stared darkly at the other man and clenched his jaw tightly, choking down his rage.

_"__I have no son_."

…

…

…

It wasn't until a few days later that Draco started to face up to his feelings and really thought about the complicated emotions he'd been riddled with ever since Hermione literally fell into his life again. The trigger for all this self-reflection had been so seemingly small. She had mentioned casually, almost dismissively, that she would return to Potter and Weasley once they'd finished the potion. And Draco had become inexplicably cross.

After everything they'd been through, she was just going to leave him. And once he realised that this was why he'd been irrationally moody, he was forced to confront how he really felt about Hermione. The truth was, he didn't want her to leave. Almost subconsciously he'd built this foolish, gullible dream in his head about what could happen once they were free from the death eaters. She was a muggleborn after all. Her life was in danger right now just as much as his. He'd imagined them escaping together, apparating across countries beyond the reach of the Dark Lord.

And that was the only the beginning of the little fantasy he'd created. If they managed to make it to Rome he could withdraw money from a wizarding bank vault that had been set up there by his maternal grandfather years ago for him before he was even born. Lucius had probably forgotten all about it. That would give them plenty to live on. The world would be their oyster. They could rent a villa in Tuscany and wait out the war in comfort. He could just picture Hermione lounging on some balcony overlooking the sea, reading a book and drinking fine wine as she tanned her soft, perfect skin. Their nights would belong to each other. He'd explore every inch of her body and she'd do the same. He'd never stop bloody touching her if he had his way. Surely he was charming enough to persuade her to spend entire afternoons just curled up in bed without a stitch of clothing on.

Okay, so maybe he'd acquired a few loose screws since Hermione had introduced him to the pleasure of her touch. He knew he was being totally daft and more than a little obsessive. Her throwaway comment the other day had made it painfully clear that she was planning to leave him once the potion was done. There would be no, for lack of a better word, _romantic _escape to the Italian coast. That hope was slipping away fast.

And it was also the reason why he was feeling so miserable right now. He was finally admitting to himself why he wanted her to run away with him; why he was so enamoured with the nights they spent together, with their bodies entwined. Draco had never before known anyone like Hermione Granger. She was everything he wanted and everything he knew he didn't deserve. For years he had teased and belittled her at school, knowing that he could never hold even one inch of her power and intelligence. And now he'd seen her kindness too. He could admit to himself that she was pretty, beautiful even. Inside and out. And now that she'd touched him and he'd touched her, he didn't want to share that intimacy with anyone else; not another living soul. Just her.

But instead of choosing him and staying together, she would return to Potter and Weasley. She would throw herself in the path of a sadistic megalomaniac hell-bent on ridding the world of muggleborn wizards and witches like her. It filled him with a helpless rage that he wasn't sure how to cope with.

Draco sighed, tugging back the covers on their bed and sitting down on the edge. He dropped his head into his hands and brushed his hair back, feeling tired. They had been stuck inside all week, ever since Snape had (rightly so) scolded them for being too blatant going out in public. And now there were death eaters arriving in Hogsmeade to patrol regularly, since school had returned. The risk was too great. Hermione had darted down to the bookstore wearing polyjuice potion one day to pick up her French tomes, but that was it. She was trawling through them looking for spells to use on his mark once the potion isolated the magic in his body. Between her research and the potion she kept fairly busy and he tried to help as much as possible.

But in the meantime he was going a bit mad. The potion kept them occupied most hours of the day, but outside of this when he wasn't touching Hermione he was thinking about her non-stop. He kept wondering why she couldn't just come with him after they'd removed the mark; why did she have to be so bloody suicidal? He blamed Potter. Scar face had to be responsible somehow. The boy who'd sliced him open in sixth year was no doubt putting pressure on his friend to blindly devote her life to him.

"Is everything okay, Draco?" her kind voice asked from behind him as she emerged from the bathroom. He grimaced and nodded, turning to watch her with a flutter of nervous anticipation. She always looked so lovely just before bed with her hair braided back and her simple cotton shirt and shorts, which she'd transfigured for herself using his wand.

"Are you sure?" she pressed softly, coming to sit on the bed next to him, "You've been so quiet today."

He hesitated this time, wondering how she'd react if he was just totally honest with her. He opened his mouth. He was ready to beg her not to leave him after they finished the potion, but something stopped him. What would she do if she learned how selfish his thoughts had become lately? How would she react to him if he started urging her to abandon her friends? Draco sighed and changed his mind at the last moment. He couldn't risk upsetting her. Not when they'd barely begun to spend time together. He didn't want to lose her. So he improvised.

"I'm just worried about my mark. If they manage to hunt me down then we're both in terrible danger…"

Hermione moved forwards in concern.

"Do you need me to reapply the charms? We can go downstairs and I can just-"

"No," he interrupted quickly, not wanting to move an inch from where they were sitting close together on the bed, "No it's alright. I just want to… er…I want to stay here, right where we are now."

Hermione smiled at him.

"Okay," she replied gently, reaching her hand out to stroke his arm in the same gesture that had started all of this. Draco smiled and shuffled closer to her, leaning in to steal a deep kiss. She tasted like peppermint and as he kissed her more deeply she released a low whining sound from the back of her throat. They'd given and received pleasure a few times now, using hands and fingers only, sometimes going late into the night. And he'd loved every second of it. But there was always the hint of something more that he could barely put a name to. It plagued him. As she wound her hands into his hair, Draco groaned. All the pensive, moody thoughts that had been tormenting him vanished from his head like a wisp of smoke.

"Hermione-" he muttered in a hoarse plea against her lips. She responded by climbing eagerly into his lap, her legs wrapping right around him. As she lowered herself down, he grunted in stunned delight as her weight rested oh so wonderfully on top of his cock.

"I've been…thinking about this…all…day," he told her between kisses, slowly parting her lips to taste her mouth with his tongue. But then she did something that sent a shockwave through his entire body. Moving her hips, Hermione started to _grind_ against his hard length.

"Mother…fucker…" he gasped, clasping her bottom tightly in both hands and pulling her closer. It was the most glorious sensation, feeling her centre rubbing against the length of him. As he became a bit overwhelmed, Hermione took over. She gripped his shoulders and moved purposefully on top of him. Their mouths were locked together, but he was becoming too distracted and was no longer kissing her with much finesse.

After a few steady, slow motions of her hips, Draco was experiencing a serious overload of sensations. When his balls tightened warningly, he pushed Hermione hurriedly from his lap. He really didn't want to embarrass himself again by coming in a matter of seconds.

Once Hermione had fallen a bit inelegantly off his lap, they sat panting, heavy puffs of air hanging tense and excited between them.

"Too much?" she murmured. He nodded, unable to speak right now as his throat clenched convulsively. Oh sweet Salazar how he wanted more. But he was so jittery and nervous. Thankfully Hermione took charge. She grasped his hand and placed it on the button of her shorts, willing him to take control himself at his own pace. Draco swallowed and undid the pyjamas, urging her to shift up slightly as he pulled them from her body. She removed her top and suddenly there was only skin, so much skin, and he felt his thoughts turn a bit blurry and indistinct. They'd never gone this far before. And he wanted her. He wanted _everything_. As she guided his finger inside her, Draco couldn't help but bite down hard on his lip as he found himself enthralled by the feeling of her walls wrapped tight around the digit. The heat and the wetness surrounding his finger were a tantalising glimpse at how it would feel if they went all the way.

Oh Merlin please, let them go all the way.

"Have you…have you ever-" he stammered, unable to finish that sentence as his nerves got the better of him. So much for the cool prince of Slytherin.

"No," she whispered against his lips, kissing him once more. Draco groaned as their tongues met and he tore his mouth away, his forehead dropping to rest on her shoulder.

"Are we going to-"

"If you'd like," she replied quickly, short of breath herself. His pulse skipped at the thought that maybe he'd get to touch her more intimately than anyone else ever had. Not knowing what else to say, he kept running his thumb over her slick pink centre. He loved the way her fingernails buried themselves into his shoulders, leaving marks that stung. She was so wet. Her whimpers increased until they were playing on a loop in his ear.

Draco was dangling at the edge of his sanity. He was all too relieved when he felt her hands grappling with the hem of his pyjamas. Abruptly, frantically, she tugged them down, exposing him to the cool air. Then she was clambering on top of him again and his hands grasped her hips so hard they were sure to bruise. He urged her forwards.

"Oh wait, wait-" she gasped and he froze, uncertain about what he'd done wrong. Her beautiful brown eyes blinked down at him a bit dazedly. He waited patiently for her to speak, his heart pounding.

"We don't…I'm not…protected," she spluttered, her cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. Draco squirmed a bit himself, understanding her hesitation.

"I think I might know a charm-" he suggested, remembering the spell that people had always muttered about in the dark corners of the Slytherin common room. Hurriedly he reached towards his wand on the bedside table. Hermione shook her head, halting his movements.

"No magic in the attic," she reminded him. Draco groaned in defeat, closing his eyes and leaning forwards to breathe in the skin of her clavicle. He placed a few soft kisses up her throat, his hands clenching unconsciously on her arse. The last thing he wanted to do right now was put his clothes back on, traipse downstairs and apply a contraceptive charm.

"Draco-" she mumbled huskily, sending a jolt of desire straight to his already rock hard cock. Her lips were swollen from kissing him and her hair was starting to tumble loose from her braid. His lips brushed one nipple and her whole body shuddered in his arms.

"Unngg…" she whined unintelligibly, "I wish… damnit! Draco, I _really _want you inside me…"

Draco grit his teeth and closed his eyes. Hearing her purring whine about wanting him inside her almost made him come right on the spot.

"Shit, Hermione, please don't say that," he begged, panting against her collarbone. He licked a trail across her shoulders, returning to move his fingers insistently against her centre. Positioning her properly once more with legs spread across his lap, he moved up and began to rub slow circles over her clit. He could at least boast that he was a fast learner. Hermione jolted against him.

"_Fuck,_" she moaned, "Draco, can't you just go in a little bit? You can pull out if you need to come…"

His thumb froze in its motions, his whole body stuttering to a complete standstill at her words. The very idea that he was the one making her lose control like this was incredible. His cock was actually straining up in some considerable pain, desperate for what she was suggesting.

Both of them were swept up in the possibility she had raised. Draco couldn't resist. He unconsciously guided their bodies so that his cock was pressing up against her slick opening. Now he could _feel _her. She was wet and there was so much heat throbbing against him.

_I'm gone. Completely, totally…gone._

"We shouldn't-" he stammered, his voice weak. Hermione nodded in agreement.

"This is probably a really bad idea."

But their minds and their bodies seemed completely disconnected in that moment. As his hands tugged at her hips insistently, Hermione carefully sunk down onto him, her pace so slow it was like torture. Draco gripped her hips hard, making sure he could quickly lift her off if he suddenly exploded, which was definitely a possibility. He was already white knuckled, fighting the urge to come.

Their mouths came together clumsily again while Hermione's arms wrapped around his back. She was now fully seated on top of him and he could feel her clenched around him completely. Draco groaned and lifted her up before thrusting up into her slowly, experimenting with this new all consuming sensation. Eventually they had to pull their mouths away from each other as their breathing became laboured.

_I didn't realise…I never imagined…_

His thoughts were a white blur, unable to retain a single purpose or plan. All he could focus on was the realisation that a week ago he had barely been touched in his entire life, and now he was buried so deep within Hermione that they shared the same space, the same soul.

Hermione moved her hands. She reached up and tugged roughly at his hair and Draco panicked and lifted her off him in one go. She released a shocked little gasp.

"Sorry," he murmured, cradling her hips closer again now that the danger had passed, "I thought I was going to…"

He trailed off but Hermione nodded rapidly. She readjusted their position to slide herself back onto his cock. It took a few thrusts, but she finally felt him hit the right spot and she let out a stuttered breath,

"There."

As they continued their slow rhythm, they kept their faces close to one another, pressing kisses wherever they could reach.

"I'm not going to last, Hermione. I can't…I can't…" he warned her.

"I trust you," she replied in a whisper, arching her back as he repeatedly stroked across that spot inside her that seemed to make her toes curl.

Feeling himself painfully close to orgasm, he slid his right hand around to lightly give some more stimulation to her clit. He hadn't wasted any time these last few days. Ever since she'd let him touch her and bring her pleasure, he'd studied her like a book. Hermione sucked in a breath and gave a small moan at the stimulus, bringing her to the edge.

But he was barely holding on himself.

Her repeated cries of "yes" were whispered into Draco's ear. He could feel her clamp down so wet and tight all around him. As she was just falling over the edge, he felt himself stiffen slightly, recognizing the beginning of his orgasm.

With a frantic grab and lift, he managed to withdraw from her just in time, leaving her right in the middle of her peak. Draco came hard, his seed spurting out erratically against the soft skin of her stomach.

"Hermione," he whispered as he came down, his cock going soft once he was spent. His body slumped in exhaustion a bit but he continued to hold onto her as tightly as he could, reaching up to kiss her languidly.

After they caught their breath, he reached over to grab a towel she'd left next to the bed and wiped her up numbly. Hermione looked down at him with a dazed expression.

"I'm sorry. That was probably a terrible idea-" she began to apologise, but he hushed her with a soft kiss.

"Probably. But it was also the best bloody thing I've ever felt."

Hermione chuckled, tilting her head to one side as she observed him contentedly.

"Me too," she murmured, kissing him once more before they both flopped, boneless, back against the pillows. Draco sighed, unable to wipe the stupid grin from his face as he concentrated on the still slightly wet, tender state of his now flaccid cock. A stray curl that had escaped Hermione's braid tickled his face. Her warm breath was released in a yawn against his shoulder. Their legs were entwined. Everything was entwined. Even their souls.

And it was in that moment that Draco knew that he couldn't let her go without a fight.

…

…

**Please don't use this foolish story-telling as life advice! Use protection haha! Sorry everyone. Please leave kind reviews to inspire me…**


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Thanks for continuing to read. I had a plan for this story but somehow I keep changing little details as I write every time. So… sorry if I accidentally make continuity errors. Be kind!**

**Enjoy some interesting conversations. As always, JKR is the creator!**

…

…

**Chapter Twelve**

…

…

Waiting impatiently in a dim clearing on the fringe of the forbidden forest, Draco tapped his foot, feeling awkward in someone else's body. He had taken Hermione's Polyjuice potion, but didn't like the way the muggle boy's frame was built with much heavier muscles nor did he like the clumsy breadth of his shoulders. And his nose was too big. Draco never thought he'd appreciate his own nose so much.

His thoughts had clearly started to wander as he waited for his former head of house to turn up at the pre-arranged time. It wasn't like Snape to be late, but it was hardly surprisingly considering the man's current situation. He was probably busy to say the least now that school had returned. Eventually the black robes flickered into view as the dark wizard emerged from between the trees. He hadn't even heard him coming. Classic sneaky Snape. That was how he'd always managed to surprise students late at night while prowling the corridors of Hogwarts. Well, not Draco personally, but he'd heard the rumours from other amorous couples.

"Where's your shadow?" the older wizard asked as he approached with a familiar sneer, folding his arms over his chest.

"She's overseeing a tough part of the potion."

"Have you added the newt's eyes yet?"

Draco nodded and Snape looked faintly impressed, even though the expression was barely discernable and more than a little odd on his face. Or maybe he'd just never seen the older wizard look impressed before.

"You'll be done by the next new moon," Snape commented so quietly he almost didn't hear him.

"Probably," he agreed, "but that's not why you wanted to meet up. What's happening? Is something wrong?"

The dark wizard paced back and forth in front of him a few times, hands clasped tightly behind his back.

"I spoke with your father yesterday."

Draco scrunched his face up in distaste. When he spoke his voice was dripping with scorn.

"And? What did that son of a bitch have to say?"

"He seems to be aware of your situation. I believe his exact words were _what the hell would my son be doing with that…_well…"

Draco almost growled when Snape let his voice trail off. The other wizard couldn't seem to bring himself to say the word 'mudblood' but they both knew it was right there hovering in the air between them.

"I had a feeling he might know," Draco said on a long exhale.

"How?"

"Hermione has some kind of charmed piece of mirror, and that auror guy Kingsley Shacklebolt saw us both when he filched the other half from the Weasley's house."

Snape frowned and tapped his foot against the floor of the clearing.

"I was worried he'd be involved somehow."

Draco glared at the potions master.

"You knew he was working for the death eaters?"

Snape nodded slowly, his eyes narrowed in thought.

"Yes. It was brought to my attention a few weeks ago."

With a clench of his teeth, Draco's brows drew together, face twisting into a sneer. His hands curled up until the knuckles turned white.

"And you didn't think to do something when he was trying to murder Hermione?"

Snape blinked a bit in surprise and cocked his head to one side.

"Excuse me?" the older wizard hissed.

"You _knew_ Shacklebolt was betraying the Order and yet you let him practically hurl her hundreds of metres to her death?"

"I don't know if you remember that night, Draco, but there was a fair amount of chaos."

"You still could have done something!"

Snape rubbed his fingers over her eyes, trying to remain composed, but failing.

"I tried!" he snapped, "I went to hit him with a spell early on, but he ducked out of the way suddenly and I ended up slicing George Weasley's ear off. Then he disappeared."

"She almost died," Draco persisted angrily.

"Don't let your feelings blind you, Draco. Everything turned out just like it should have in the end."

He grimaced, choosing to brush over the comment about his feelings. He was only just starting to revel in those feelings he had for Hermione himself recently. He certainly wasn't prepared to suddenly share it with Snape of all people.

"So what is Lucius going to do about it?" he asked sullenly. Snape came a small step closer, his black eyes worried.

"He's not going to stop looking for you. He won't rest until he wipes you from the face of the earth, or else he risks harming his reputation in the eyes of the Dark Lord. Draco…you _must _be careful. Both of you."

"We are, don't worry. Hermione knows all these amazing protective charms and wards. She's managed to conceal us both successfully so far, with a bit of help from the paranoid barkeep at the Hog's Head."

Snape's lip twitch but he seemed to let out a breath of relief. He spun around to pace again across the small length of the clearing. Draco watched for a few moments before clearing his throat.

"How's school going?" Draco asked dryly, earning a dark look from the former potions master.

"About as well as you'd expect."

"That well huh?"

Snape shook his head with a long sigh. He looked more tired than Draco had ever seen him. There were dark rings under his eyes and his skin was sallow and pasty. The older man leaned against a nearby try, as though he needed the help to just hold himself upright.

"The Carrow twins were appointed as teachers."

Draco grimaced, knowing their reputation even if he didn't have much to do with them while he was at the manor.

"What the hell are they gonna teach? Torture 101?"

"I think that's pretty much the idea, yes," Snape grimaced, his face pale and slightly nauseous looking.

"Are _you_…er…doing alright?" Draco asked tightly, not really used to having a close rapport with his godfather. It's not like they ever spent much time talking about their feelings. Snape glanced warningly up at him.

"I'm fine," he replied tersely, "Doing what I can given the circumstances. But it's fairly grim. With the Dark Lord looking over my shoulder at every turn, my hands are tied."

Draco nodded shortly. He could only imagine the havoc those two twisted siblings were reaping up at the castle.

"Did Blaise come back for seventh year?" he asked curiously. The other Slytherin boy had been the only one who had shown even the barest hint of interest in him or concern over the last year. He'd hardly call him a friend, but they'd developed a kind of mutual respect and co-operation as prefects together. It wasn't much, in fact it was rather depressing as friendships went, but he still didn't want the other boy to have come to any harm. He knew Blaise wasn't a supporter of Voldemort, but the Slytherin was smart and knew when he was fighting a losing battle. In different circumstances if Draco hadn't been so monumentally fucked up as a child they could have maybe become proper friends eventually. It was too late now of course.

"No. I believe his family conveniently went to the Swiss Alps on an extended vacation, so to speak."

"Smart idea," Draco mumbled, kicking a pebble with his shoe and rubbing uncomfortably at the back of his neck.

"Speaking of which," Snape began, fixing him with a hard stare, "what do _you _plan to do once your mark is gone?"

"Get the hell out of here, of course," he quipped almost instantly, folding his arms over his chest underneath the intense scrutiny of his former professor.

"That's it? You're just going to leave?"

He let out a long sigh and shuffled from one foot to the other.

"Well what else do you expect me to do? I never wanted any part of this, and I'm done being used like a pawn."

Snape's gaze was sharp as he looked the younger wizard up and down.

"And the girl?"

Draco shrugged, but his pulse jumped nervously.

"I'm kinda hoping I can persuade her to come with me," he murmured, though his tone wasn't exactly brimming with hope. The older man scoffed derisively, shooting him a critical glare.

"Do you honestly think she'd agree to that?"

He shrugged.

"I can always try. Or stupefy her."

Snape shook his head, prowling closer again.

"You know as well as I do that Miss Granger isn't the type to forsake her friends to save her own skin. And she won't appreciate you tricking her or forcing her to leave."

Draco let out a frustrated breath and ran his hands through the unfamiliar brown hair on his temporary body.

"I'm not staying, Severus," he muttered, head down, "I can't. This is _not _my war to fight!"

His heart beat like a steady drum at the thought that he could possibly get trapped back into the terrifying web of the death eaters again. He couldn't go through that again. And it sounded like his father was prepared to pretty much kill him on sight anyway. He refused to risk his life for Potter and his band of self-righteous Gryffindors. If the wizarding world was lost then so be it, he could mourn it from a distance and get his life back in the process. If that meant saying goodbye to Hermione… well he didn't want to contemplate that yet. He was still determined to win her over so that he would never be faced with that choice.

"Very well," the older wizard agreed, though he didn't look happy about it, "but remember, you need to be careful now more than ever. Lucius is fuelled by anger and his feelings of shame and humiliation. He is actively searching for you. He won't stop until he silences you or he risks the Dark Lord's wrath."

"You almost sound like you care," Draco taunted the other wizard and Snape actually snorted, shaking his head.

"Don't be so naïve. I still might be the one who's assigned the task of killing you. I won't hesitate if it means keeping my cover."

Draco smirked.

"True. It's not like you're winning any prizes for godfather of the year."

"Don't be cheeky. Now hurry. You need to return before your Polyjuice runs out. And remember what I said… be careful. Take every precaution."

"Yes, sir," Draco barked with a small grin, half saluting the man before spinning around to leave the clearing. As he headed away from the trees he turned to glance back at the other wizard. But by the time his eyes sought out the spot where they'd been standing, Snape had vanished. Shaking his head, Draco continued on, reflecting on what they'd talked about together. Snape was certainly right about one thing. He needed to be extra vigilant now. Lucius was not someone to be trifled with, and the man would be after his blood now. It was more important than ever that they finish this potion.

…

…

…

It was very relaxing to sterilize potions equipment, Hermione mused as she ran her mortar and pestle set underneath the running water of a rusty pipe. The sharp fumes of the alcoholic liquid she was using, which Aberforth had been kind enough to lend her, reminded her of their old potions classroom at school. Even though Snape had ruled over his domain with an almost tyrannical savagery she still kinda missed it. Slughorn had been knowledgeable in his own way, but nobody had that flair for innovation that Snape had. Even if she was just appreciating it now. It was one of the reasons she had frequently received only 'Exceeds Expectations' grades in her younger years. Hermione had been dogmatic in her adherence to the rules and instructions. It wasn't until later, sometime around their fifth year, that she had really shone at potions. She had even managed to squeeze a few extremely reluctant and highly rare Outstandings out of her old professor. All because she had started actually paying attention to his tiny, scrawled feedback. She had started to think for herself and make alterations based on her detailed knowledge of the ingredients that went into each potion. Unbelievably she'd realised that Snape really just wanted her to experiment and prove herself, not merely follow instructions. And now he was entrusting her with this complex, insane potion simmering away happily in the cauldron in one corner of the room. His own creation, in fact.

Hermione smiled proudly as she placed the implements to one side on a carefully made drying rack. She was quite impressed with the little lab she'd improvised for them in the old storeroom downstairs. Aberforth had been reluctant but surprisingly helpful in allowing them to use his precious pub. When all this was over she'd have to find a way to thank him. And Snape too.

As Hermione thought about her old potions professor, she wondered how Draco's meeting was going. He had agreed to meet up with the wizard near the shrieking shack again. Knowing their luck it was probably bad news. Maybe it was related to what had happened the other day with the mirror and Kingsley.

Hermione's musings ground to a halt as she heard angry, hushed voices bickering out in the pub. It was too early for many customers to be about, and the last she'd checked the place was empty. Cocking her head to one side, she strained to hear what was being said.

"-it's the only way!"

"I don't want an army of snotty little brats parading through my pub!"

"But they need help. Mr Longbottom in particular. They'll kill him before Christmas at this rate. Just some food and a way to communicate-"

"Out of the question."

"You're being unreasonable. It's just a couple of students-"

Hermione had leaned in close to the door when she finally realised who she was overhearing. The thick Scottish brogue was a dead giveaway. Excited, she gripped the door handle, uncertain about revealing herself but too eager to reunite with the person on the other side to second-guess herself.

"I've already got enough of your wayward charges to deal with, thank you very much," Aberforth grumbled under his breath. The other person noticeably paused, and her tone was confused as she asked,

"What are you talking about?"

Hermione stepped out into the corridor, a hopeful expression on her face.

"Me. He's talking about me."

Minerva McGonagall stared at her in stunned disbelief for a long moment. The woman looked more frazzled than she was used to from the prim, proper teacher. Her thin, pursed lips almost twitched into a smile when she saw her former student. But then she suddenly had a wand in hand and was abruptly pointing it right at Hermione's face. She held up her hands in a defensive gesture. Minerva looked her over critically.

"What were my last words to you before you left Hogwarts?" the stern woman demanded and Hermione felt herself relax. Of course Minerva wanted to confirm her identity. Constant vigilance, right? She certainly wasn't the kind of person to take things at face value. So Hermione thought back to those last few moments at the castle, when her Head of House had pulled her to one side for a quick chat as they boarded the train.

"You told me to trust my instincts. But be smart enough to know when to ask for help."

Minerva let out a small, strangled gasp of air; as if she couldn't quite believe what her eyes were seeing. Then, without warning, Hermione was pulled into her arms and trapped in a fierce hug. She blinked and struggled to breathe as the Transfiguration professor held her tight. She almost laughed at the unexpected action from the usually austere woman. But then Minerva released her just as quickly, dabbing a bit at her eyes.

"We all thought you were dead. Remus told us what happened that night…"

Then she turned to Aberforth suddenly who was looking rather bored and impatient to one side of them. She unexpectedly lifted a hand and slapped his shoulder hard.

"Ow, what the hell's yer problem, woman?"

Minerva's glare was intense as she replied,

"You knew she was alive and you didn't tell me?"

"Bloody hell," he growled, "What was I supposed to do? Hang a banner over the front door?"

"And _you,_" she turned back to Hermione again who smiled sheepishly up at her, "you have some explaining to do after all the worry and grief you put me through. "

"Why don't we remove this conversation to somewhere a little more private," she suggested shyly, gesturing to the little room she'd converted into a potions lab. Minerva glanced around the narrow hallway then nodded, seeing the wisdom of her words and moving to follow her into the back room. Aberforth made a scoffing sound, striding off in the opposite direction.

"I'll let you two catch up," he snarled, "and avoid anymore unwarranted physical assault. _Don't_ ruin my pub."

Hermione shook her head fondly and ignored him. She closed the door after ushering her old mentor inside. Minerva looked around the room curiously, seeing the bubbling cauldron in one corner and the ingredients spread in an organised fashion around the bench tops.

"So tell me what happened, Hermione. Remus said you fell off the back of a thestral and nobody could find your body! Then that article… well, the less said about that the better. But how did you survive?"

"It's going to sound mad and you probably won't believe me."

Minerva gave her a thin smile.

"Try me."

"Well…um…you see… Draco Malfoy saved me."

The older woman blinked in surprise. Her wrinkled brow drew together in a slight frown.

"Surely not," she scoffed with a sceptical tone, "The same Draco Malfoy who tormented you in school? Who led the Death Eaters into Hogwarts and attacked Professor Dumbledore?"

Hermione considered the woman in front of her. She wondered how much she should reveal. Obviously Snape's part in all this would have to remain a secret. He clearly wanted to keep his cover and play the role of the traitor spy to the end. Otherwise he would have told Minerva himself. But there was no reason to hide Draco's change of heart.

"The very same," she replied with a slightly fond smile, "I know he seemed like a perfect carbon copy of his father sometimes, but he's changed. He never wanted to be a death eater and he grasped at the first opportunity he could to escape."

"And where is he now?"

"He had some things to do. He'll be back soon."

"He's staying here too?"

Hermione nodded, noticing that her former Head of House didn't exactly look thrilled with the idea. But that was fair enough. Anyone who hadn't seen Draco's sincerity for themselves would be more than justified in judging him. He had been a little prat at school after all. And he had appeared to be a seemingly willing death eater until recently.

"Are you sure that's wise?" the woman asked with a familiar scowl, as if she had caught her student in the library after curfew.

"You told me to trust my instincts. Well, this is more than just instinct. I _know_ that Draco means me no harm. He _saved _me," she repeated, "and he wants nothing to do with his family or You-Know-Who anymore."

Minerva narrowed her eyes, moving to take a seat on a rickety wooden chair near the ingredients table. Even though it was the kind of chair that looked like it was splintering into pieces, the strict woman somehow managed to look elegant perching on the edge of it. Hermione moved to lean against the opposite table, feeling like she was in detention or something as her mentor swept her hawk-like gaze over her from top to bottom.

"I think you had better start at the beginning," Minerva prompted, sitting straight and waiting expectantly. Hermione smiled fondly. She had missed her favourite professor very much. With a deep breath she launched into her story, leaving out a few key details but mostly keeping the gist of it intact. And from the knowing, suspicious glint in the older woman's eyes she obviously read between the lines and figured out the shift in her and Draco's relationship from sort of not quite enemies to lovers. But to Hermione's surprise her old Head of House didn't pass any kind of judgment or give her a warning. She just told her to be calm and to think with her head as well as her heart. She was far more disturbed, however, by the revelation about Kingsley.

"This is grave news indeed. The last I spoke to Arthur, the Burrow had been attacked and they had no idea who was responsible for compromising their wards."

"The Burrow was attacked?" Hermione squeaked, eyes widening in shock.

"Everyone is alright. A few injuries, but nothing serious."

"Harry and Ron?" she prompted

"They got out early. Remus made contact with them briefly, but otherwise they're on their own now."

Hermione dropped her head into her hands. She felt a wave of guilt wash over her. Her boys were all by themselves now. At least when they were under the watchful eye of Molly Weasley she knew they couldn't get into too much trouble. But on their own? She gnawed on her bottom lip, wondering what kind of terrible friend she was for not doing everything she could to protect her friends from danger.

"Now listen here, Hermione," Minerva started, leaning forwards with an authoritarian snap to her voice, "Stop blaming yourself for things that are out of your control. You were stranded and wandless, not to mention being chased down by Death Eaters for heaven's sake. It was brave of you to offer the Malfoy boy help, especially after he saved _your_ life. And it sounds like you've almost finished this potion you came up with to help him anyway..."

Hermione had to stop herself from wincing. She didn't like lying to the older witch who had been her role model and mentor for so many years, but she'd had no choice. Snape clearly expected total secrecy, so she'd had to come up with some kind of explanation for the origins of the potion. Luckily Minerva had easily believed that she would have been able to find out about it herself through her usual rigorous research approach.

"But what if they need me? Harry and Ron don't exactly have a great track record when it comes to thinking before they act."

Minerva nodded with a slight twitch of her lips.

"True. But you also shouldn't underestimate them. They're safe for now. Remus says they've hunkered down at Grimmauld Place and are ready to stay in one place for a while."

Hermione nodded, accepting the older woman's wisdom. And she should probably give the boys more credit. They'd succeeded so far hadn't they? Harry in particular was excellent at thinking on his feet; that's how he'd managed to stay alive so long despite everything.

"You're right. But when we _do _finish this potion and Draco's safe, I still have no way of reaching them. I have no wand, remember?"

Minerva quirked one brow in a thoughtful expression.

"Don't worry. I'll see what I can do."

"Really?"

The other woman nodded confidently.

"Oh yes. You'd be surprised how many students have carelessly thrown away their wands over the years when their parents have bought them a new one. I might be able to find something suitable."

"That would be incredible! Thank you!"

Minerva stood, smoothing out imperceptible wrinkles in her midnight blue robes. She smiled warmly at her former student.

"I'd better go. I can't afford to be away for too long."

Hermione returned her smile and they made their way towards the door.

"Is everything okay up at the school? You were asking Aberforth for help…?"

"These are dark times at Hogwarts," the other witch told her with a long sigh. She looked weary in the flickering light of the candles, older than usual and visibly fatigued, "The year has only just begun really. Yet it somehow feels like we're all balancing on the edge of a knife. Longbottom and some other Gryffindors in particular have already started to become a bit, shall we say, _reckless _with their protests_._"

"Is it really that bad?" she asked, wondering what in Merlin's name could provoke timid little Neville into stepping up so openly and voicing his opposition.

"Worse," Minerva replied, "Hermione, if there is any chance at all that Aberforth will listen to you, please speak to him and convince him to send help into the castle! He has ways of delivering things back and forth between here and Hogwarts. And we might need that one day soon."

Hermione nodded eagerly.

"I can try," she promised, "If you need anything at all-"

"I know where to find you," Minerva finished her sentence, smiling affectionately and patting Hermione's cheek in a motherly way, "now you take care. No more thestral rides or fake deaths please. My heart can't take it."

"I promise," she responded, grinning as she saw the older witch out the door.

After everything they'd talked about that day, there was one thought sticking out in her mind more than any other. Minerva might be able to get her a wand. And that meant that she was now one step closer to returning to her friends. She just hoped they all survived that long.

…

…

…

It was late when Draco came up to the attic room that night. He had offered to stay downstairs with the potion brewing for a couple of hours while Hermione washed up and read through some of the tomes she'd ordered at the local bookstore to help with her spell work. They were up to a tricky stage of the potion and there were times when it needed constant supervision. He had just spent an hour watching it bubbling away while he mixed in the aconite with a counter-clockwise stir every three minutes precisely.

By the time he snuck into the dimly lit room, tired and sore, Hermione had fallen asleep. She looked adorable with her head lolling to one side on the pillows, book resting where it had fallen against her chest. Her face was relaxed and she had even drifted off without blowing out the lone candle on the bedside table. It cast a warm orange glow on the room as it reflected off the wooden beams.

Draco smirked and kicked his shoes off. He tugged the quilt down a little way and slid into the bed next to Hermione. The blankets were soft and her body felt warm next to his. He shifted closer and nestled up against her curves. Draco placed a kiss against her neck, breathing in and allowing his eyes to briefly flutter closed at the scent of her skin.

He had never believed or even dared to dream that this kind of experience could happen to him. Even his tangled fantasies paled in comparison to the sight of her lying there now, sleeping peacefully in his arms.

_I don't deserve this, _he thought darkly, _but I'll be damned if I stop now._

Draco felt the curly haired witch stirring against him and she mumbled his name questioningly as her eyes slowly drifted open.

"Mmm…Draco?"

He watched as her confused expression gave way to a drowsy kind of longing. He looked down at her with what he hoped was a charming smile. He reached over and plucked the book from off her chest where it lay open and placed it on the bedside table. Then he sobered as Hermione squirmed against him with open curiosity.

"Is everything okay?" Hermione asked, her eyes opening further as her hands wound around his neck to pull him closer.

"I want to see you," he told her huskily, reaching for the hem of her pyjamas and giving her a questioning look, seeking permission. Hermione bit her lip and nodded a little self-consciously. He knelt between her legs, pushing the cotton material up, letting his thumbs caress her soft skin as he went. He drew it right up and over her head, leaving her exposed. His mouth went dry at the sight of her. He suddenly felt the full weight of his inexperience overwhelm him, fascinated by the gentle swell and curve of her breasts. Draco swallowed. His hands itched to touch her, to feel them in his palms. He lowered himself down to lie propped up on his forearms, his weight nestled between her thighs as he kissed her tenderly, surprisingly managing to stay in control even though his body was held taut and trembling with the need for more. His skin had grown cold in the chilled air of the downstairs potions lab, but was quickly warming from being pressed against the sleepy flush of her body.

Draco explored her mouth for a while, waiting for her to fully wake up. Then he let his lips trail down over her neck, pressing tender kisses along the column of her throat and brushing lovingly across her collarbone.

Draco kissed lower still, impatiently chasing his goal. He reached the swell of her breasts and ran his lips lightly down over one. When his lips brushed her nipple ever so lightly he felt Hermione buck her hips and release a throaty whimper. His hands gripped the sheet beneath them with white knuckles.

He watched her hungrily, leaning down again to kiss one perfect pink nipple. Following his instincts, Draco slowly pulled it into his mouth and gave a suck. He heard Hermione moan and felt her fingers digging into his hair. Her whole body shuddered beneath him and he cursed against her skin. He quickly moved to her other breast and did the same thing, delighting in the way that Hermione squirmed beneath him, seeking some kind of relief. He lazily thrust against her.

Once they were both breathless, he moved downwards, continuing his path, He pressed kisses down her taut stomach and lower. Tugging her pyjamas down impatiently, his mouth finally made it down between her legs. She smelt sweetly of arousal and his eyes rolled back slightly as his mouth watered. Hermione had tensed up slightly underneath him, but he cradled her legs and parted them further with reassuring fingers stroking her thighs.

Ever since that night when she had first kissed him, he had been thinking about this. He had spent hours wondering how the rest of her would taste, and the idea had planted itself in his head like a pernicious seed, growing and blossoming into something obsessive. Lowering his mouth, Draco licked gently across her centre.

_Holy shit…_

She tasted even better than he'd imagined. He needed more. Leaning back in, Draco pulled her small nub gently into his mouth. Hermione bucked against him in surprise and gave a drawn out moan. With a satisfied sigh, he brought his hands down to open her legs slightly wider. He slid his pointer finger into her cunt, gently coaxing her open before adding another. His own erection was straining against his pants, and he rutted gently into the mattress but otherwise ignored it in favour of drawing out Hermione's arousal.

Draco had no idea what he was doing really. But it seemed to be working. Hermione's hands were clenching tightly onto the bed sheets, but she lifted them shakily to grasp onto his hair. Draco loved the feeling of her fingernails stinging as they raked over his scalp. All of a sudden and quite by accident, he managed to curve his fingers in just the right way, making Hermione suck in a breath and let out a moan,

"Right there," she breathed.

He groaned against her and responded in kind. He could feel how wet she had become around his fingers. So he curled his fingers in the same manner, eliciting another moan from Hermione.

As he continued the tender movements of his mouth and tongue along with those of his finger, he felt Hermione's orgasm approach ever so slowly. She was squirming as Draco sucked on her clit while her muscles tightened convulsively around his finger. He felt pain in the roots of his hair as she tugged on him so hard he whined, but it simultaneously caused a throb of need in his own groin. Reaching down blindly with his other hand, he shoved his pants down and gripped himself, starting to move his fist furiously over his cock.

When her climax hit and her hands tightened, she moaned deeply from her throat, her whole body shuddering as she gripped him close to her. Draco felt himself hurtle over the edge as he pumped harder, spilling over his hand. He continued to stroke and lick her through her orgasm until they were both boneless and limp.

Once she had relaxed completely, he slid lethargically back up her body, licking his lips and savouring the last remnants of her on his tongue. He softly pressed kisses to her neck while she caught her breath.

"Draco…" she murmured huskily after a long pause, "That was…oh my goodness… that was really…nice…" Hermione groaned and turned her face towards him, clearly struggling to find the words to say. Draco felt a tinge of pride spread slowly through him.

"How's the potion?" she mumbled eventually and Draco blinked, lifting his head to stare down at her sleepy face incredulously.

"Seriously? That's what you're thinking about?"

Hermione chuckled against his shoulder.

"Not really. I'm just trying to get my brain to work again."

Draco snorted.

"The day your brain stops working is the day we're all doomed."

"Don't be ridiculous."

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her jaw, tugging her close. Her heavy limbs flopped over him tiredly.

"I'm being serious. I would never have survived this long without that brain of yours."

"I could say the same about you," she mumbled drowsily, her eyes drifting closed once more. Draco's grin widened, running his hands up and down and smooth curve of her back.

"Sounds like we should stick together," he told her in a solemn voice. When she didn't respond, he tilted his head up and peered down at her face but her features were totally relaxed. She had fallen asleep. With a smile, he tucked a loose curl behind her ear and leaned back down to rest his head on the pillow. Closing his eyes he let his own tiredness take over, wondering drowsily whether he was one step closer to having Hermione by his side or if they were now even closer to her leaving him than ever before.

…

…

…

**Big things will be happening soon. Sorry this was sort of a slow filler chapter - much more drama to come next chapter. Please review!**


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Back again – I'm pretty proud of myself for keeping up a weekly schedule. I definitely thought I'd fall behind at some point.**

**Lots more things happening this time. Unlucky number 13! As always, JKR is the original source of magic!**

**…**

**Chapter Thirteen**

**…**

Hermione worked tirelessly on the potion every day for the next week, making sure every step was followed meticulously. Once or twice she felt confident enough to tweak Snape's instructions, but she always scribbled her thought process down in the margins, working through the problem in great detail first.

Draco helped her through every second of it, staying by her side as he helped. He had always excelled in the subject too, though he didn't have the same experience in brewing advanced potions far beyond even NEWT level. He did have a good sense for how to follow steps like preparing ingredients and brewing supplementary potions that would be combined later such as numbing agents and an anaesthetic balm. She couldn't have done it without him. But it wasn't just the assistance he gave with the potion that helped. It was the way he always seemed to know when she needed a break or if she was hungry. He seemed to just appear at the perfect moment right when she needed something, offering a rest and encouraging her to eat to keep her strength up. He could be even bossier than her when the occasion called for it.

Draco was currently standing opposite her, leaning against the workbench with his arms folded over his chest. He was looking pointedly between the lamb stew in the bowl she was holding and her face.

"Come on… another three spoonful's, or I'll force feed you myself."

"Has anyone ever told you how pushy you are?"

Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.

"Actually _you_ did a few hours ago when I made you finish your breakfast."

"Oh yeh. So I did," she glared at him, but it was a teasing look and there was no malice there.

"If you don't look after yourself and pass out face first into the cauldron, we'll have to start from scratch."

"True," she ate another mouthful, chewing obediently on a tender piece of lamb.

"Two more spoons."

"Mngfalright!" she snapped, the word muffled by the food she was swallowing. Draco smiled cheekily. He reached over and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"I wouldn't have to be so pushy if you weren't so stubborn," he observed slyly, his thumb stroking over the curve of her jaw. She slapped his hand away.

"Excuse me! I'm working my butt off getting this potion ready-"

"Which is why it's _my_ job to take care of you."

Hermione gave him a sullen pout, deliberately scraping the last of the stew from the bowl and practically shoving it in her mouth before sneering at him. His grin only widened. Even though she was feigning annoyance she really did appreciate his kindness. But she didn't want it to go to his head or anything. Draco could be so insufferably smug. And he already made her so frazzled when he was being all charming and considerate. She didn't want to lose her head completely.

Shoving the empty bowl back into his hands she gave him a scowl.

"Happy?"

"Almost," he told her, before leaning in and suddenly pressing his mouth to hers. It was a hard, fierce kiss but it was over almost as soon as it had begun.

"_Now _I'm happy," he declared, before taking her bowl and spinning around, exiting the room with a satisfied smirk.

"Arrogant bastard," she muttered under her breath, returning to her work with a frown, trying to ignore the smile that twitched involuntarily at her lips.

…

…

…

Draco paced across the small space nervously, his fingers tapping impatiently against his thigh. He was feeling restless and frustrated by his lack of usefulness. But Hermione had already scolded him once for getting in her way and hindering her progress. So instead he scratched distractedly at the dark mark on his arm and muttered to himself under his breath.

"Will you just relax? You're distracting me!" Hermione scolded him, a pencil stuck behind her ear as she read over her notes. Draco huffed out a breath and collapsed down onto a dusty crate in one corner of the room. They were in the underground cellar, which was apparently the safest place to conduct their final tests and administer the potion. But he was too anxious to sit still for long.

"What's taking so long?" he demanded. When Hermione answered him, her gaze remaining focused on the parchment in front of her.

"Would you rather I rushed and killed you with some half-baked spell?"

Draco sighed but didn't answer. He tapped his fingers in a quick rhythm against the edge of the crate. He was painfully aware of what they were about to attempt and was feeling anxious. His arm was tingling from the balm they'd applied an hour earlier, which was acting as an analgesic ready for whatever would happen next. Neither of them was entirely sure how the dark mark would react to any of this. It might hurt him. The magic buried inside him might try to fight back. Draco shuddered, but his grim musings were interrupted when the curly haired witch sprung up beside him, gnawing on her bottom lip fretfully.

"Ready to do this?" she asked in a shaky voice.

"No."

"Draco-"

"It's alright. I'm just… nervous. But I've watched you brewing the potion and I've read your _extensive _notes on the spell. If anyone can do this it's you."

Hermione seemed pleased with the trust he was placing in her, but he also noticed her hands trembling as they gestured for him to take a seat. She'd laid out a rug on the floor with a few candles placed in a circle around the outside. He lowered himself hesitantly to sit cross-legged, his tall limbs folding awkwardly underneath him. Hermione took a deep breath as well and mirrored his position on the rug, their knees touching as they faced each other.

"Okay, first I'm going to draw some blood…"

Draco willingly lifted his hand. He knew she wouldn't deliberately want to hurt him. And he was proven right when the witch cradled his hand gently in hers, raising her wand to tap it on his palm. The thin stick of fir tree wood was elegant and strangely it suited her. McGonagall had brought it by earlier in the week, leaving it in the possession of Aberforth at the bar. The old man was still grumbling about having to look after too many Hogwarts "brats" as he called them, but he passed on the precious item to his young Gryffindor guest. The dragon heartstring core was similar to her previous wand, so it had complimented her nicely. Considering how often she had complained about Draco's wand feeling _weird _in her possession when using spells, he was glad that this one had proved to be a better fit. They needed all the help they could get right now.

Hermione made a small, clean incision and they both watched a bit squeamishly as a few glistening drops of red blood pooled to the surface.

"Now for the gross part," she told him, nose scrunched up in disgust. He'd read her notes so he was familiar with what she was planning to do, but it was still a bit of a shock when she dipped her fingertips in the blood, coating them thoroughly. Hermione carefully lifted them up to his face, running them down the length of his forehead and stopping between his brows. Then she took each of his forearms and did the same thing, creating three perfectly straight lines in blood. He watched the one trickling over his mark in morbid fascination. As if the skull and snake couldn't get any more hideous, now it was marred with blood too.

"Alright," Hermione sighed, letting out the tension in her body with a single breath. He looked on in bemusement, as her nerves seemed to just float away. Her face became relaxed, focused even, as she moved on to the next part of the ritual. Draco was in awe of her. She'd been like this at school to some extent. When there was a problem or a difficult task to be solved she became quiet, scary even, and it consumed her attention to the point where all other concerns faded away, even her anxiety. Now her expression was one of pure determination.

"Here," she placed a goblet in his hand, the potion they'd been working on still bubbling away inside under a stasis charm. It was a thick silvery mixture with a glossy shine on the surface. Like liquid metal. Draco pinched his nose and swallowed the whole thing down in three gulps. He knew better than to complain about the taste. He'd probably just get a smack over the head for bothering to voice his disgust.

"How do you feel?" she asked softly. He considered the question, cocking his head to one side as he took stock.

"Fine, normal actually but…" he paused quickly as the first twinges began. It started in the roots of his hair and the tips of his fingers. He felt his muscles twitching all over his body. Then something else began to stir inside him. It felt like insects crawling underneath his skin. The feeling intensified and he wanted to scratch, to claw at himself. Hermione took his arm, the trail of blood intersecting the dark mark facing upwards between them.

"Hold on, it'll be over soon."

"Bloody hell-"

His body began trembling. The crawling soon felt like a rough scraping against his nerves. Every vein in his body seemed to throb and he closed his eyes, grinding his teeth together to stop himself from crying out.

"Is it supposed to hurt this much?" he muttered through his clenched jaw, feeling his forehead grow clammy with sweat.

"I don't know," she told him rubbing his fingertips tenderly to try and keep him calm. Draco took a shaky breath, as the sensation suddenly seemed to start moving. It shifted, like his energy was being dragged across concrete. The feeling pooled in his forearm, localising on the dark mark. His hand curled into a white knuckled fist.

"It fucking hurts!" he groaned, scrunching his eyes closed. Hermione hushed him gently, cupping his arm with one hand and pressing the tip of her wand to the skull tattoo with the other. She began to recite her spell, her focus entirely on his skin as her voice hummed the latin incantation like a melody. Draco tried to concentrate on small details to stay conscious. The drip of blood down his arm. The agonising chill that had wrapped itself around his nervous system. The low timbre of her voice. Hermione's wand traced the outline of the mark as she continued to murmur the spell.

The feeling of coldness grew. Draco shivered, his skin erupting into goosebumps as he started to convulse. The shaking was so violent that his teeth were audibly chattering.

"Oh Merlin…" he gasped, the icy feeling gripping onto his arm like a vice.

"It's fighting me," Hermione muttered angrily, her expression turning fierce as she pressed the tip of her wand more aggressively into his forearm. She recited the spell again and again, her voice growing louder. Then suddenly it seemed to release its hold on him and the cold swept from his body in a wave of relief. Draco drew in a deep, choking breath, staring down at his mark in disbelief. The black tattoo was writhing and slowly growing faded. The edges blurred until it seemed to seep from his pores like a toxin.

"Yes!" Hermione exclaimed with a tired grin, but Draco barely heard her. He was too busy staring at the mark as it escaped his body in a demented, twisting gust of power. It seemed to go on forever, the coldness in his bones replaced by a slowly dawning heat. It was like he'd sunk into a warm bath after suffering from exposure.

He was barely even aware of the groaning, whooshing sound that accompanied the burst of power as the magic was sucked from him. But he did notice the sudden silence as the spell was cut short. Then there were only Hermione's panting breaths permeating the room.

"Did…did it work?" she stammered, eyes falling closed from exhaustion as her shoulders drooped and she slumped to one side. Draco was frozen, numb with anticipation as he carefully twisted his arm around to look at his forearm. His wrist was stripped bare, the pale skin turning shiny and puckered up pink like a new burn. It was grotesque in its own way, like his very own hideous battle scar. But compared to Voldemort's terrifying brand that had marked him before it was like a wonderful breath of fresh air. Draco felt his eyes pricking and he drew in a shaky breath. His hand trembled as he touched the skin, running his fingertips over the bumps and ridges of the scar. He stifled a sob, feeling the lightness of his magic gathering to welcome him home. It was too much. It was everything.

"I'm free," he whispered hoarsely, his vision blurring from the few tears that threatened to spill from his eyes, "Hermione…"

His gaze darted up to watch her, but she was slumped on one elbow, barely supporting her own weight. She looked completely depleted, and he wondered just how much power she had used to save him. Glancing down at his arm once more, he moved into action. With a few slight nudges here and there, Draco managed to gather her into his arms. She was properly nodding off now, her head falling boneless against his shoulder as he lifted her up, one arm looped underneath her knees. Standing, he began to carry her towards the door and then the staircase leading up to their attic.

As he moved through the darkened space, Aberforth appeared carrying a crate of something on his way through to the taproom.

"My wards are going crazy right now, boy," he grumbled, "they've been battered by some pretty potent magic…"

Draco just nodded, knowing how fearsome the witch in his arms really was. He wondered briefly whether she even knew her own power. There was a nervous kind of vulnerability she carried around her like a cloak, as though she was always unsure of herself and her abilities. He wished she could see how amazing she really was. As he shifted her in his arms, the spot where his dark mark used to be growing uncomfortable, Aberforth cleared his throat.

"So it worked then?" he grunted, and Draco knew he shouldn't have underestimated the man. He hadn't really expected him to care, but there was something like concern buried within his gaze.

"Yeh. It did," he murmured, his voice still tinged with something like awe.

"Bloody impressive, if yer ask me," the older man commented gruffly before brushing past them and continuing on into the pub as though nothing had happened. Draco shook his head, bemused by the strange wizard. He carefully made his way upstairs to their room. With a great deal of care, he lowered Hermione onto the bed, tugging off her shoes and pulling the blanket up around her shoulders. She was fast asleep before her head even hit the pillow.

With a sigh, Draco sat on the edge of the bed. He stared down at his arm for a long time. A couple of months ago it had seemed impossible that he would ever be rid of the horrific mark binding him to that snake faced madman. He thought he'd carry it for the rest of his life. But now his body felt at peace, weightless even. There was a darkness that had left him, like a thick sludge running through his veins and infusing his magic that had now been cleansed. With a sniffle, he ran one hand through his hair, messing it up but not caring as he tried to blink away more tears.

Thanks to Hermione, he was finally in control of his own life once more. He could finally be who he wanted to be and go where he wanted to go with no insidious obligations or ties to the tormentors that plagued his nightmares.

And if there was thing that Draco was damned certain about, it was that he would never look back. He was going to _live._

…

…

…

It was with a heavy heart that Hermione trekked through the edge of the forbidden forest, following the path where she thought Draco might have gone. A sense of foreboding filled her, knowing what came next. There was no doubt now that things were about to come to a head.

Yesterday they had successfully completed the potion and she'd performed a virtual miracle by essentially exorcizing the dark magic from Draco's body. Until she'd seen his arm with her own eyes later that night, scarred but no longer untarnished by the dark mark, she hadn't quite believed it was possible. The theoretical notes she'd made supported her, but when put into practice she had been so scared that she would fail.

But it had worked. Draco was free. He was safe, just like he had saved her the night she had fallen from the thestral.

When she'd woken in the early hours of the morning, it had taken Hermione a moment to figure out where she was and what had happened. She was so warm, curled up in the arms of Draco, who had obviously carried her to bed after the spell. She vaguely remembered being so drained she couldn't even hold her chin up.

But when Hermione had wriggled over to check on him, she found that he was already lying awake, running his fingers absentmindedly through her curls and staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. He had clearly been deep in thought, as though he hadn't slept all night. She recalled the moment when he'd noticed that she was awake. He hadn't said anything at all. He'd just leaned down and grasped her face, kissing her with more soul wrenching passion than she'd ever felt. He'd rolled her over until she was on her back and he was resting in the crook of her thighs. There had been a pause then as he'd stared down into her eyes, his steely grey gaze scorching her with some emotion she couldn't name. Then he'd proceeded to make love to her silently, his fingers wandering across every inch of her body with aching tenderness as he took her more desperately than any of their previous encounters.

Just remembering it made Hermione blush as she weaved her way through the trees towards the clearing they had strolled to many times during these last few weeks. Ever since that final moment when he had spilled himself on her stomach with a pained groan, she hadn't seen or heard from him. He'd tidied himself up and disappeared almost immediately, his skin white and sallow from lack of sleep.

But Hermione wasn't stupid; she knew the reality that was facing them both in the cold light of day. The words had hung perniciously in the air between them all week.

It was time for her to return to Harry and Ron.

On some level she knew that Draco was struggling with the idea of her leaving. She wasn't sure what he was thinking exactly, but enough of his comments over the last couple of weeks had led her to infer that he was scared of being alone, that he had come to depend on her company just as she had grown so fond of being with him. She also suspected he would do his best to _prevent _her from leaving, whether through persuasion or coercion she didn't know yet.

But regardless of how much their mutual feelings had grown, she had no choice. It was imperative that she return to Harry and Ron as soon as possible. There were more important things going on in the wizarding word than the blossoming of one new teenage relationship. Professor McGonagall had reminded her to think with her head. And that was what she was going to do. Harry's mission and the fate of all muggleborns in their world were at stake, not to mention the very morals she held dear. She could never live with herself if she didn't stand by her friends during this time. She was only hoping that Draco would understand, that she could persuade him to see her point of view.

As Hermione approached their usual clearing, she shivered as thunder rumbled overhead. A storm was brewing. The first droplets of rain fell down, cold and hard against her skin.

There was nobody there. Realising she wasn't visible herself, Hermione cancelled her disillusionment charm after casting strong protective spells around the area.

"Draco?" she called out. There was a shimmer of magic to one side and then the blond boy appeared, sitting dolefully on a fallen log.

He smiled when she came over to sit beside him, but it was strained and didn't reach his eyes.

"Hey. You disappeared pretty quickly this morning. Are you… is everything okay? Your arm…"

Draco chuckled dryly.

"My arm is fine. Better than fine. It's perfect. Thanks to you."

She almost asked what else was wrong with him, but she had a feeling she already knew the answer. Instead they both fell into a thick silence, filled with unspoken doubts and questions. Draco especially was quiet for a long time, contemplating the ground in front of them. Releasing an anxious little breath, Hermione tapped her foot up and down, her knee jiggling unconsciously to an unheard rhythm as she waited for him to choose what he wanted to say to her. He opened and closed his mouth uncertainly a few times but didn't speak. It took a while, but eventually he tilted his head towards her.

"When are you planning on leaving?" he asked her with a grimace. Hermione swallowed, her mouth dry and her palms clammy.

"Soon," she told him softly, not wanting to lie to him. He seemed to deflate a bit with her confirmation of what he had probably already guessed.

"How will you find them?"

"Professor McGonagall told me where they might be, if they haven't moved already that is. Apparently they returned to our old headquarters in London after the Burrow was attacked. I'll start there."

Draco nodded. He took a deep breath, as if bracing himself for something. Then he turned to her, his eyes wide and pleading. As the clouds coated them with a steady drizzle, he gripped her icy hands in his.

"Hermione…" he began, his voice choked with emotion, "are you absolutely certain about this? You don't have to go..."

"I do," she replied gently, "I can't just stay here while my friends are in danger."

"But I don't think you truly even realise how much danger you'll be in. If they catch you-"

"That's why I have to go. I can't let Harry and Ron face it all alone."

"You don't understand," he grasped onto her hands more tightly, almost painfully, "Hermione, they're not just trying to promote pureblood supremacy anymore; they've started actively hunting down muggleborns. The things they do to them… It still haunts me every day. And _you're _the most notorious of them all."

"But don't you see? That's why I have to go. I can't sit back and do nothing while people like me are being victimised and killed."

"This isn't your battle! It's not your responsibility to save everyone," he half shouted, looking panicked.

"Then whose is it, if not mine? Evil can only triumph when good people do nothing."

She could tell Draco was getting frustrated and he didn't seem to know what to say. But he leaned in closer to her, so close that she could see individual droplets of rain running in rivulets down his nose.

"Just hear me out, Hermione, _please_," he begged, and when she nodded her assent he took a deep breath, speaking as though he'd prepared what to say in advance. "You don't have to throw your life away. I've got a plan. We can make it from here to Italy. I have money there we can use. There are other Slytherin families who can help conceal us, ones that don't support the Dark Lord's ideas. We can finally be free and just be together. We can start a _new _life."

Hermione felt her chest tighten and it suddenly became difficult to draw in air. His face was so open and hopeful, and she'd be lying if she said the picture he painted wasn't oh so tempting. But running away wasn't an option. She was made of more mettle than that.

"I wish I could give you what you want, Draco," she told him earnestly, watching the way his hair drooped down slowly over his forehead, soaked by the steadily increasing rainfall, "But my place is here, fighting for what I believe in. Being loyal to my friends. I'd grow to hate myself if I ran away."

Draco visibly clenched his teeth, his eyelashes fluttering as they fell closed for a second. He seemed to compose himself, but when he opened his eyes his expression was filled with anger.

"So that's it? You're just going to leave me here? You're choosing them over me?"

"No," she answered calmly, "I'm not _choosing _anybody. I'm just doing what's right."

"How can it be right when it'll get you killed!"

"It's a risk I'm willing to take," she told him quietly, "it's _my_ life to give."

Draco ripped his hands away from hers and stood up from the log, moving to face away from her as he fought to stay in control. He was physically shaking, his shoulders hunched up tight and his hands trembling in fists by his sides. Hermione stood as well, standing patiently behind him and waiting. Once she saw that he had calmed down a bit, she spoke again.

"Draco… why don't you come with me?"

He spun around to face her, his face screwed up in a look of horror.

"What did you say?"

"I'm serious. I'll explain everything to Harry and Ron. They'll accept you once they know what's happened. You can help us win this war! You've been inside their ranks, you _know _their methods. And we can be together."

"You're crazy," he told her, staring at her in shock as though she'd just slapped him in the face.

"Is it really such a terrible idea?"

"_Yes_," he growled vehemently, "if you think I'm going to get chummy with those two morons then you must be raving mad."

"It's not about them! Nobody's asking you to be best friends or anything."

"So why would I want to throw away my life away for Harry fucking Potter then?"

Hermione frowned, her heart filling with disappointment as she stared at the blond boy soaked with rain and radiating anger.

"Because it's not just about Harry. You've been there, on the other side. You know what will happen to our world if _he _wins."

Draco shook his head, fists quivering by his sides.

"You're right. I have been there. And I refuse to be drawn back into the living hell that was my life for _years _just for some foolish, naïve hope_._ I can't do it."

"Don't you want to stop them? To stand up to them?" she asked pleadingly, but he just kept shaking his head blindly, his expression pained.

"I want to forget all about them," he shouted, "I want to get as far away from this nightmare as possible. I already had to endure it once. I won't survive it again. I curse my parents every day for what they've put me through, but the memories still just keep torturing me. Now that my mark's gone, I need to get away from here or he'll never let me rest. Lucius will continue to haunt my every waking moment and visit me in my dreams. I _can't_ face him again, Hermione. Don't make me."

Hermione let out a long breath of disappointment. She had really been hoping that he might come around and that they could stick together. But it seemed that both were adamant about their position.

"Well I won't change my mind either. I belong here. With Harry," she warned him in a low voice.

"How can you throw away your life for that wanker?" he growled at her, stepping forwards to come toe-to-toe with her, his furious breaths falling in an icy fog against her cheek.

"How can _you_ just run away?" she countered and they both froze, noses almost touching they were so close. Eventually Hermione looked down and sighed, her curls falling wet and heavy around her shoulders.

"I guess that's it then. We go our separate ways," she told him in a flat voice as lightning cracked overhead.

"_What?_" he croaked, his fury giving way to an expression of fear. Hermione found herself becoming annoyed.

"You won't stay and I won't leave. End of conversation."

Draco stumbled backwards a bit, slicking back his damp hair in his hands and releasing a noise of frustration.

"_No_," he barked, "there has to be a way we can… resolve this…"

She cut him off with one hand raised, stemming the desperate arguments that were forming on his lips.

"There's no use, Draco," she told him mournfully, "we're both far too stubborn to change our minds. I care about you. I really do. These past few weeks with you have been so… unexpected. And incredible. I'll never forget it."

Draco's eyes widened even further in horror.

"Don't say it, Hermione. Don't you fucking dare!"

"Don't say what?"

His face was screwed up in anguish as he lurched towards her.

"This is _not _over. I'm not ready to be over you."

"Well I don't really see any other option, do you? If neither of us is willing to change our minds then we have to part ways."

A flash of lightning lit up their faces, which had grown shadowed from the storm clouds looming low and ominous above them. Draco took her shoulders in his hands, tugging her forwards. She stumbled a step or two as he leaned in to kiss her.

"I don't care about this stupid war, I just want you with me," he murmured against her lips, "Please come with me!"

Hermione tore herself away, staring at him with regret.

"I can't. We can't. Draco please… can we not just shake hands and say goodbye without getting angry at each other?"

"Is that what you want from me?" he demanded, "to just smile and watch you walk away like you mean nothing to me?"

"It would be easier," she reasoned in a small, pitiful voice.

"Hermione, I can't do that. You know why I can't do that."

"Why?" she asked curiously, unsettled by his jittery manner. He grasped her face in his hands, drawing them close again.

"Because I… I've fallen…" he choked on the words, his normally steel grey eyes alight with feeling. Hermione's heart stopped for a painfully long moment as he froze, the words unfamiliar and terrifying on his lips. It didn't matter. She knew what he was trying to say. He'd probably never said it to anyone else in his entire life. So she could hardly blame him for finding it all so overwhelming. With a heavy weight settling deep in her chest, she stood up on her toes, leaning in to kiss him slow and sweet on the lips. His fingers dug into her shoulders.

It was now or never.

Hermione repeated the kiss twice, then three times. Each one even more tender than the last. Then she drew away, blinking dolefully up at him as she slipped one hand into her pocket.

"I'm not going to let you go, I won't-" he muttered in a hoarse whisper, his forehead pressed against hers. Hermione swallowed, gathering her courage around her.

"I had a bad feeling you'd say that," she told him, her own voice cracking as a sudden wind battered them with the pelting rain that fell in a steady downpour now.

Slowly she stepped back, drawing her wand from her pocket along with her small, beaded bag. Draco shot a panicked look down at the two items.

"What are you doing? Why did you bring _that_?" he gestured to the bag that had resided in the attic room all these weeks. The one that she had packed this very morning after he'd left their bed.

"I know you're going to try and stop me. I know you're thinking of ways to subdue me right now or maybe even knock me out. I wish things had turned out differently, but I need to follow my own path. I hate that it leads me away from you, but there's nothing more I can do about that. You don't want to come with me, and I could never ask you to risk your life against your will."

"Hermione, don't-" he took a threatening step towards her, as if he was going to pounce on the hand holding her wand. She shook her head warningly, lifting it higher. Draco paused, fearful.

"I hope you find your peace, Draco, I really do. Trust yourself. Be happy. And maybe when all this is over, you and I can…" her voice trailed off in a small sniffle, uncertain what she was supposed to say. Her words punctuated by more cracks of lightning as the storm surged overhead.

"If you use that wand, Hermione, I swear to Salazar-"

"I'm sorry."

"_Please don't_-"

"Goodbye Draco"

"NOO!"

Hermione twisted the wand just slightly in her hand, her grip clenching on the fir tree wood as she concentrated on her destination. Then with an almighty crack and a rush of sensation she was gone.

And the last thing she saw was the utter desolation on Draco's face as he watched her disappear into nothingness.

…

…

**Omg I'm so sorry. Forgive me. I hopped on the drama train this week. I promise that's not the end of the road for them or anything! Please review. BE KIND!**


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Interesting responses to that last bit of drama! Half of you are cross at Hermione and the other half think she's justified. I personally think she has dedicated so much to winning the war and is so committed that nothing else could stand in the way. As for Draco… he needs time, poor thing! He's been through a lot.**

**Glad you all hopped on the drama train for a ride. And now for the emotional fallout…**

**As always, JKR is the true Headmaster of Hogwarts.**

…

…

**Chapter Fourteen**

…

…

Draco stood in the doorway of the attic room, his hands curled into white-knuckled fists as he looked around the empty space. It was too tidy, with Hermione's possessions packed up and gone, the covers made up neatly over the bed. He blinked rapidly, his eyes prickling.

So she really had left.

Noticing a slight shimmer to one side of the room, Draco shuffled numbly over to the bedside table. Sitting there was a single gold galleon; one of Hermione's enchanted ones that she'd used to communicate with her friends. Draco picked up the coin, turning it around slowly in his fingers for a long moment. He stared down at it dazedly, realising that the witch had left the main one behind with the original charm on it so that he could contact her if he needed anything. She must have taken one of the other coins with her.

With a shudder, Draco let out a roar of anger and hurled the galleon with all his might against the wall. It rattled onto the floor and rolled lazily under the bed, spinning to a stop. He was breathing heavily as he watched it, cursing her and himself and the whole stupid situation.

Clenching his eyes shut to block out the sight of the depressingly bare room, Draco slumped down to sit on the edge of the bed. He dropped his head into his hands, gripping his hair tightly.

"Damnit, Hermione," he hissed quietly, shivering fretfully as he contemplated what the hell he was supposed to do now.

On one hand, he wasn't dumb enough not to realise why she'd left. He really had been considering making her run away with him. It had crossed his mind that he could somehow force her, if he caught her by surprise. She'd have to forgive him eventually right? It would all be to protect her. Given this, he could admit at least to himself that he'd left her with no choice but to slip through his fingers.

As for Hermione's suggestion that he join _her_… well Draco could hardly even imagine such a scenario. Not after everything that had happened to him. Allying himself with Potter and his band of suicidal Gryffindors was essentially a death sentence where he was concerned. The Death Eaters would be after his blood more than even the Boy-Who-Lived. But more importantly, it was also a guaranteed way of coming up against Lucius in the future. That was something he couldn't do, no matter how badly he wanted to stay by Hermione's side. He wasn't ready to face his father, not now… maybe not ever. His nightmares were still haunted by the cold gaze and heartless manner of the elder Malfoy, whose spite had effectively ruined Draco's life thus far. It wasn't something he was proud of, but he knew he just wasn't strong enough to confront Lucius.

With a tiny sob of self-pity, Draco remembered the look on Hermione's face as she'd disapparated away from him. She'd been standing there shivering in the rain, her curls plastered to her face and shoulders. Her expression had been filled with pain and remorse. The memory only made him angrier. Why did it have to be this way? Couldn't they have come to some kind of compromise? He wasn't sure what they could have figured out, but anything was better than them being separated like this.

Draco's depressed musings were interrupted by the creak of the doorway. He looked up to see Aberforth standing there, holding a small crate of goods from the adjacent room. The barkeep had a prominent scowl on his face as he shifted the crate to balance lopsided on his hip.

"So yer lass has gone then?"

Draco jolted in surprise at the question.

"She's _not _my lass," he sneered.

"Could have fooled me, boy," the older wizard paused, eyes darting around the room, "When did she leave?"

"This morning."

"Hmph. I was wondering why she got all emotional and shrill earlier after you wandered off. Started hounding me about the bloody passageway to school. As if I didn't have enough problems. I should have known she wasn't coming back."

"Hmmm," he hummed noncommittally, still slouched over on the bed.

"And? Are you leavin' too, boy?"

"I don't know…" he muttered.

"Well it's about time I got my pub back. I've had just about enough teenage angst under my roof as I can stomach."

Draco clenched his teeth.

"Yeh well, it doesn't matter now, does it?" he grumbled, dropping his head forwards and running a shaky hand through his hair.

"Don't be stupid," the older wizard growled, "just because yer lass is loyal to her friends doesn't make her any less loyal to you."

"What do you know about it?" he snapped, but Aberforth wasn't buying it.

"Don't be a brat," he scolded, "Yer smarter than that. Why do you think she left?"

"Because she cares about Harry fucking Potter more than she cares about me!" he muttered, though his heart wasn't really in it.

"Wrong," the older wizard barked, "and as soon as you figure out the right answer to that question, you'll be a hell of a lot happier."

"Just leave me alone, alright?" he murmured under his breath, grinding his teeth together as he stared morosely at a crack in the old floorboards. Aberforth snorted.

"Ye need to toughen up, boy. Running away from what yer afraid of won't make the fear go away."

"I said _leave me alone!_" Draco yelled, willing himself not to let the tears in his eyes spill over in front of the older wizard. But before he knew what was happening, Aberforth had stepped over closer to the bed. He reached out with one dry and weathered hand, and for a second Draco thought the barkeep was going to hit him. But then he just placed it firmly on his shoulder in a gesture of almost fatherly solidarity.

"Yer not a bad kid, Malfoy," he mumbled in a low, encouraging rumble, "but ye gotta _find_ yourself, and not run away from who ye are. Otherwise you'll just keep on being alone. Believe me, I should know."

As Draco sniffed quietly, the older wizard shuffled awkwardly, hoisting the crate in his arms higher as if it was weighing him down. Then, before the boy could lift his head and say anything in response, Aberforth had limped from the room without looking back. Left with the eerie silence of the attic, broken only by the occasional drumming of thunder as the storm passed further and further away from the town, Draco let out a long breath. His eyes were screwed shut, as though he could block out the thoughts that were teasing him, telling him what an idiot he was, what a coward he'd turned into. Mourning the loss of something he'd grown to need, to love…

With a wave of despair, Draco realised what he'd done, what he'd given up in his quest for freedom. He might have earned his escape from the Death Eaters and his father once and for all, but he'd also lost something more valuable than he'd thought possible. Even though barely an hour had passed, he felt that crawling emptiness burrow itself deep under his skin; the same skin that Hermione had caressed so softly. His body was hollow without her fingers stroking his skin tenderly, without her sweet lips pressed against his. After her touch and her kindness had virtually brought him back to life, now he just felt cold and his spirit was somehow emaciated.

He was alone all over again.

He was alone and he didn't know what he was supposed to do without her. Aberforth was right; he'd lost a part of himself. And that part might never come back.

…

…

…

Severus waited impatiently for his godson to arrive in their usual clearing, pacing to and fro with his hands clasped behind his back. He cursed the little brat ten times over in his head for his tardiness. Didn't Draco realise how busy it was back at the castle? How important it was that he was there at all times to curb the more sadistic urges that the Carrow twins were likely to give in to? More than one student had been tortured for almost innocuous rule breaking in the last two months of their reign. Longbottom's face in particular was starting to resemble some grotesque canvas that an angry child had painted on. He was so bruised and beaten that it was remarkable that the boy's moralistic energy and courage hadn't dwindled at all. Frankly, Severus was impressed with the normally inept student. He was probably still a bumbling fool at potions, but was finally proving his mettle in other areas.

Eventually Draco deigned to turn up to their pre-arranged time, looking like the walking dead. The boy seemed to be dragging the weight of the world behind as he shuffled forlornly into the clearing. His face was pale and drawn and there were dark rings under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. The change in him since the last time they met was shocking.

"What's happened?" Severus snapped, looking him up and down with a critical eye. Draco blinked slowly, shaking his head.

"Nothing. Everything's fine."

"Bollocks. You look paler than the Bloody Baron."

Draco remained silent, staring sullenly at the forest floor. Severus frowned, surprised by the boy's reticence.

"Did the potion not work?"

Draco smiled weakly, reaching down and pushing up his sleeve to expose his forearm. The potions master stepped forwards curiously.

"It's gone," he murmured, both their arms tensing reflexively as they stared down at where the dark mark used to be. It was a gruesome, raised red scar now, but Severus hoped even that would fade a little in time.

"So she did it then," he commented.

"Yes, she did."

He narrowed his eyes and observed his young godson for a moment.

"Shouldn't you be happy?" he asked dryly, already beginning to suspect what had happened.

"I am."

Severus had to stop himself from snorting or rolling his eyes at the boy's petulant manner. With an intent gaze he confronted the boy.

"I take it from your moping that Miss Granger has already left to return to her friends."

Draco nodded, scuffing a rock with the toe of one shoe.

"Three days ago," he admitted, his voice a bit hoarse and barely audible.

"And what exactly have _you_ been doing in those three days?"

The boy shrugged tiredly, his posture slumped.

"Contemplating my own failures."

Severus sighed and gave him a swift whack on the shoulder.

"Enough," he scolded, "You made your choice! I warned you that the girl would go her own path. You should never have expected otherwise."

"I know. But I'm afraid, Severus," the blond confessed, raising his grey eyes up and staring mournfully at the shrieking shack in the distance, "I know I should go, that I should move on. I can't stay here. But I'm scared that I'll never see her again."

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the boy, adding things together. He had been worried about the two of them since the start, but now it seemed to be confirmed by Draco's own behaviour.

"Please tell me you didn't seduce the poor girl, Draco," he groaned, his voice tight with worry. He knew the Order of the Phoenix might become vengeful if Draco had messed with the infamous princess of Gryffindor and broken her heart. That would make it significantly less likely that he'd receive mercy from the wizarding world if the light side won the war. He needed their support. Draco's eyes darted to his and he scowled.

"It wasn't like that."

"Well what was it like?" Severus pressed, irritated with the impulsive boy.

"Do I _really _have to talk about this?"

"Yes," he demanded.

"Fine. We shagged, alright? But I didn't _seduce _her, you git. We…we just…"

"You just what?" he hissed, angry that the young Slytherin hadn't been able to keep it in his pants long enough to have his arm healed and for them to go their separate ways. He'd surmised that they were fooling around the last time he met up with Draco, but he wanted to hear it straight from source. He needed to know how deep this ran so he'd be able to anticipate the boy's possible recklessness. Draco ran his hands through his hair in an aggravated gesture, messing up the blond locks.

"It wasn't about _that. _Maybe at first… but then I…" the boy huffed out a breath as though he were rallying his courage, before blurting, "I think I might have fallen in love with her."

"You _think?_" Severus repeated through clenched teeth. Maybe their relationship was far more serious than he'd guessed.

"Yeh, well I'm not sure am I? It's not exactly a familiar feeling for me, is it? All I know is that it hurts to think about her but at the same time she's _all _I bloody think about! It's infuriating."

Draco's voice became choked as he explained this, leaving Severus a bit dumbfounded. He'd never seen his godson express even a fraction of this emotion his entire life.

"It's worse than I feared," he commented tightly, making the young Slytherin growl angrily.

"It's not like I planned it," the boy sneered, his face a picture of self-pity and regret, "But it doesn't matter anyway. I refuse to join her in whatever suicide mission she's on. I can't face my father and I don't want to hang around and watch her die either. I don't think I could bear it."

Severus sighed, closing his eyes for a moment and wondering what he should do.

"Very well. So where will you go?"

"I was thinking Italy. I had this whole plan for if she… well, I guess it doesn't matter anymore. But I know I can get money there, and I was thinking maybe I could track down Blaise too. He might help me if I beg nicely."

"So what's stopping you?"

Draco looked down at the ground for a moment, shamefaced, his cheeks turning pink.

"I don't think I can apparate that far," he mumbled, embarrassed. Severus seemed to recall that their lessons in Sixth Year coincided with when the boy was concentrating on the last stages of his vanishing cabinet. He probably hadn't been overly focused on learning apparition. And any other method of magical travel was at risk of gaining the attention of the ministry and by extension the Death Eaters.

"Can you manage small distances?"

"Of course."

He thought about the problem for a moment, wondering if it would work if Draco received some guidance. It was possible in theory, depending on the helper.

"I have an idea. But you might not like it."

"What is it?"

Severus took a deep breath and reached his senses out to the castle just beyond the forest. As Headmaster, he enjoyed an instinctive connection to the school and all its residents. Normally someone who had killed his or her predecessor and usurped the position would have been denied this privilege, but Hogwarts was smart enough to know the difference. Severus concentrated on a single thought, opening his mouth and calling out a name.

"_Dobby!_"

Draco's eyes widened at the name, and he looked positively stunned when the little house elf appeared with a sharp crack in the middle of the clearing. He was wearing a lumpy green and blue knitted jumper with a pile of hats on top of his head, ears sticking out to the sides.

"Dobby heard his Headmaster's call!" the little elf squeaked with his usual enthusiasm. Severus's jaw twitched and he gestured over the creature's shoulder towards Draco.

"We need some assistance Dobby," he explained, but was cut off when the elf turned and released a small shriek of excitement.

"Master Draco!"

"Dobby!" the other boy whispered in disbelief, "you really are alive!"

"Dobby is alive, yes!"

"Are you okay?"

"I is being very healthy and happy, Master! But always Dobby cries for his Master Draco."

And sure enough the elf's round, milky eyes started to tear up.

"What? Don't cry-" he murmured, leaning down to kneel next to the little guy. Severus watched on in surprise. He had known that the elf used to serve the Malfoys, but certainly hadn't been expecting this sentimental reunion.

"But Dobby watches his Master. Always watches. And Master Draco is so sad all the time. Dobby doesn't like his Master being sad."

"I'm not your Master anymore, Dobby."

"You…you're…you're not?" the elf stammered in a high-pitched voice, his big eyes wide open with hurt. Draco blinked a bit in alarm.

"I mean… of course I'll _always _be your Master. But you don't technically serve the Malfoys anymore. Luckily for you."

"But Dobby takes care of Master Draco still!" the elf declared stubbornly, "Dobby would put blankets over his shoulders when he falls asleep in the library. And he gathers potions ingredients for Headmaster Snape so that Master Draco can be rid of his nasty!"

Draco smiled fondly.

"Thank you Dobby. You've been _very _helpful," he reassured him, "My nasty is all gone now. And I'm very glad you're so happy."

Dobby nodded, but then pouted at the young wizard kneeling before him.

"Dobby would be even happier if Master Draco wasn't so sad."

Draco choked out a laugh, patting the elf on the head.

"I'll be alright," he told him weakly.

Severus decided to chime in at this point.

"What your Master needs, Dobby," he informed him solemnly, "is to be safe someplace far away from here."

The elf nodded frantically.

"Yes, sir. Dobby will make sure Master Draco is safe. Just like Master Dumbledore wanted."

"That's right. You remember your promise?"

The elf nodded, his expression serious.

"Dobby remembers!"

"Aberforth mentioned something about the old coot keeping an eye on me," Draco grumbled as he listened to their interaction.

"Yes, well… he continues to be a scheming son of a bitch even in death."

The two shared a look, wondering what he really had in store for both of them. It was hard to know just how much Dumbledore had planned out.

"Where is Dobby taking Master Draco?" the elf squeaked curiously. Severus gestured for Draco to answer the question and the boy thought about it for a moment.

"Could you take me to the Europa district in Rome?" he asked. The elf nodded.

"Of course, Master Draco! You is just needing to think hard about where you want to be and apparate - Dobby will guide you!"

The elf offered his wrinkly little hand up towards the boy, but Severus stopped him.

"Wait," he commanded, before taking a slow step towards his godson. He observed him with resignation for a moment, wonder how it had all come to this. How the spoilt little brat who had seemed like an exact copy of his father had found the strength to think for himself. How on earth he too had fallen for a muggleborn. And why he was fleeing thousands of kilometres away. There was more going on here than met the eye, but Severus wished for only peace and some closure for the young man who had finally started to prove himself after all these years.

"So this is it, then," he murmured, "Stay safe. Be smart. Hopefully spending too much time with a Gryffindor hasn't dulled your sense of self-preservation."

Draco snorted.

"It would seem not, since I'm the one running away."

Severus considered the boy intently for a long moment. Eventually he sighed and his cool façade relaxed, regarding him earnestly.

"I am proud of you, you know… for making up your own mind about the world. And for having the courage to see past Lucius's lies."

"Don't get all mushy on me now, Severus," Draco warned, making him release a soft, dry chuckle.

"Of course not. But this might be the last time we speak-" he began slowly, knowing the odds of him surviving this mess were slim.

"What do you mean?" Draco interrupted sharply.

"I'm unlikely to live to see the end of this war."

"But-"

"No, don't interrupt. There's no point. I accepted my fate a long time ago."

The younger wizard's expression was stunned and more than a little upset as Severus continued, knowing this was his last chance to be open with his godson.

"Listen Draco, if you ever wanted to heed my advice, do it now. Don't let your fear control you. You can't run from it. One day you're going to realise that doing what's right is hard. But doing nothing will prove to be even harder on your soul in the long run."

"You and Aberforth should start a club, that's pretty much what he said," the boy grumbled, shuffling uncomfortably in front of him. But his expression was open and clearly affected by his godfather's words. Severus grimaced, stepping back and letting the elf move forwards again to take his hand.

"Alright, Dobby. Take care of him."

"Severus-" Draco blurted, his face pale and pinched, "You will be careful won't you? You'll try to… _not_ die?"

Severus looked at him for a heavy moment before nodding.

"I'll try. Good luck."

"And you."

Then the little house elf reached up and curled his fingers around the boy's, standing side by side in the forest.

"Ready Master Draco?"

The blond wizard stared at his old potions master and godfather for a long time, brows furrowed as they studied each other.

"Ready, Dobby."

And then with a crack they were gone, leaving Severus alone in the clearing. He only hoped that the young man's journey would provide some solace to him and that Draco would find himself in the end. And that _he_ would be alive to see it.

…

…

…

Hermione stifled a sob, wiping her eyes and nose impatiently with her hand as she gathered her thoughts and tried to focus on the backstreet she'd apparated to. She needed to stay calm. It's not like she could afford to fall apart here in the middle of London when danger might be lurking around any corner. Taking a shaky breath, she straightened her shoulders and forced herself not to think about Draco or his stricken expression as she'd left him in that forest. Instead she counted to ten, dried her cheeks, and then approached the square around the next corner, being careful to stay in the shadows.

Hermione was pleased to note that the old building at Grimmauld Place was still visible to her. Clearly the Fidelius Charm had not been compromised when Dumbledore had died. She wasn't sure whose authority it had passed to, maybe Harry since it was technically his home. Now that she knew Snape's true loyalties, it was clear that he wouldn't have betrayed the Order's safe house. But she was surprised that Kingsley hadn't revealed it. Maybe he hadn't been in on the secret. She wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore had actually known more than he let on.

She peered out from around the corner of a narrow side street, watching the front door closely. Then she noticed some movement on the other side of the road near the park. Two men stood hunched there muttering to each other. They were wearing black muggle coats with their collars tugged up over their necks. There was something off about them, and it didn't take a genius to figure it out. Given their furtive glances around the square, Hermione surmised that they were Death Eaters who had been ordered to watch the last know location of the Order safe house in case it or someone from inside appeared. She really hoped Harry and Ron knew not to leave too blatantly through the front door. Fortunately the way the wizards' eyes kept sliding over the space where Number 12 stood also reinforced the knowledge that its secret was intact. They weren't able to focus on its exact location.

With a deep breath, she considered the scene in front of her. Hermione smiled, lifting her wand and pointing it towards a distant alleyway on the other side of the square. With a quick charm she made a rock rattle slowly down the cobblestones, the sound echoing through the foggy evening air. The Death Eaters spun towards the sound. Both men's hands reached down to grip something beneath the folds of their coats, obviously their wands. They clearly weren't the most incognito sentries.

As they prowled down the side street to investigate the noise, Hermione snuck across towards Number 12 Grimmauld Place. She rolled her eyes at how laughably easy it had been as she reached the front door. Slipping inside, the first thing she registered was the familiar smell of dust and the faint odour of someone cooking, possibly Kreacher.

"Hello?" she called softly, wand at the ready just in case.

Nobody responded, but there was a light shining out from under the kitchen door and the sound of low voices in conversation came from behind there too. With her heart fluttering in anticipation, Hermione crept towards the door and peered inside warily. She still wasn't confident that the place hadn't been rigged into some kind of trap.

"-only one of us can really fit properly under the cloak. "

"Yeh, also doesn't the ministry have a system for detecting magical objects like that?"

"I dunno. I don't think so. The ministry couldn't find their own asses without a point-me spell."

"True."

Hermione grinned, tears gathering in her eyes as she recognised the voices of her two best friends. It felt incredible just to hear them speak. She had missed them so much.

"If only we had some Polyjuice potion."

"Doesn't it take about a month to brew?"

"Yeh something like that."

"It would probably be too difficult for us to make anyway, I suppose."

Hermione chuckled and stepped out from the doorway, a watery smile on her face.

"You could just borrow some," she commented softly. The reaction was immediate. Harry and Ron almost jumped out of their skins as they both spun around in their chairs. Their faces were completely stunned, open-mouthed and pale, as though they were seeing a ghost.

"_Bloody hell_…"

Ron's hoarse whisper was loud in the silence that followed her entrance. The two of them eventually moved, scrambling out of their chairs. They approached her on trembling legs, looking her up and down as if she wasn't quite real.

"Bu…wha…when…are you…"

Hermione watched them struggle with her appearance. She shrugged her shoulders happily.

"Yes it's really me," she reassured them, "Ron, you once ate a cockroach you thought was an old piece of candy and Harry, you described your first ever kiss as _wet. _See? Definitely me."

The noise that followed was overwhelming. The boys shouted all at once, cheering and laughing in delight.

"It is you!"

"You really are alive!"

"We were so worried-"

"We thought you were gone!"

"Thank god!"

The boys grabbed her and yanked her into the middle of an enthusiastic hug. Hermione quickly lost it too, succumbing to all the emotions that had been building up and up. She sobbed as they held her and soon noticed that they were crying too. The three of them collapsed to the ground in a pile of limbs and tears. Harry's glasses were askew as he beamed at her and Ron planted a big kiss on her cheek, for once not even embarrassed about the contact.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked thickly through his tears, swiping at his eyes as he did.

"I'm fine. I'm all right! Really!" she laughed when they didn't believe her, reassuring them, as they seemed to inspect her from head to toe to make sure she was all there in one piece.

"You have no idea what we went through, what we thought…" Ron's voice became strangled and he couldn't finish his sentence as he choked on the words. Then both of them just held her close as she looked at them fondly through blurry eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know what to do; I tried to contact you. I sent that message on the coin as soon as I could, and I also tried using your mirror."

Harry started, frowning in confusion.

"You have my mirror? We couldn't find it."

She shook her head, clasping onto both boys' hands and holding them close.

"It's a long story, but no I had the _other_ piece. I could see into your room at the Burrow, Ron. But before you could notice me…well…"

She wasn't sure how to tell them about Kingsley. She knew Harry had admired the auror and she was still reeling from the shock of it all herself. But before she could expose the traitor in their midst, she was surprised when Harry and Ron shared a significant look.

"It was Kingsley, wasn't it?" Ron growled, his face flushing an angry pink and clashing with his orange hair.

"How did you know?"

The boys looked serious as they glanced towards each other again.

"He was saying things about you that didn't add up," Harry muttered, and she could see the old rage simmering inside him, "It didn't feel right. Then when Ron's room was trashed… well…"

Ron nodded in agreement.

"Plus we did manage to figure out your code, you know! We're not totally hopeless believe it or not!"

Hermione chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

"Really?"

"Yeh, of course. Your last message confirmed it, but we already suspected. Then a few days ago you literally spelt out _Kingsley bad. _We might not be geniuses but you made it pretty easy for us."

"Thank goodness," she sighed, "so what's happened to him?"

Ron shrugged in a seemingly casual gesture, even though she could see the lingering bitterness in his gaze as well.

"Not sure, we're out of touch a bit with the Order. We passed on what we knew through Remus. But I think the treacherous son of a bitch has gone off the grid. Nobody had seen him last we heard."

Hermione's shoulders dropped a bit in disappointment. She had been hoping they'd managed to catch him or punish him for what he'd done. It made her uncomfortable to think that the evil man was out there somewhere, free to kill some other poor unsuspecting muggleborn.

"It's alright. They'll get him soon," Ron said in a soft voice, seeing that the mood had plummeted again. Harry tried to agree half-heartedly to lift all their spirits. Hermione was so overwhelmed with emotion again that she threw her arms around both her boys, drawing them into a fierce hug. They were all still sprawled on the kitchen floor but nobody was inclined to move yet and interrupt their precious reunion.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you again," she told them, her voice croaking from the tears she was sniffing back.

"We've missed you so much, Hermione," came Harry's muffled response against her shoulder as he returned her hug, "We thought the worst had happened…"

She felt Ron's hand grasp hers tighter at this, and Hermione's heart clenched. She couldn't even imagine what they must have gone through. All she knew was how she'd feel if one of them had died and the thought hurt so much she had to block it out almost immediately or she'd start crying all over again.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice strained.

"Don't apologise!"

Harry eased back from the embrace, Ron following suit. Her messy haired friend looked at her fretfully, his face a picture of despair.

"What the hell happened, Hermione?"

She considered them both for a moment, before gesturing over to the old, frayed couch next to the fireplace in one corner of the room.

"Maybe we could move off these cold floorboards first," she suggested with a choked laugh and the boys smiled, helping her up and together they shuffled over to the couch. None of them wanted to be separated for even a second yet, so she clasped both their hands in hers and sat between them on the raggedy patchwork cushions. Hermione let out a long, steadying breath.

"Where do I even start?" she asked almost to herself.

"How about after we got split up above the Dursleys' house. You flew in a different direction to us so neither of us saw…"

"Well, we were…attacked…" she told them slowly, thinking back to that night and at the same time trying to puzzle through how much she was going to reveal to them. Honesty had always been important to the three of them, so she didn't want to hold anything back. But at the same time, she wasn't sure how they'd react to certain revelations.

"At the time there was so much happening I didn't even think about it. But later upon reflection I realised that Kingsley had orchestrated it so that I was the one hit when a Death Eater attacked us. He was steering the thestral erratically and taking his time. We flew past one Death Eater who sort of froze and didn't attack us."

"Why?" Harry asked with a frown.

"Well… I'll get to that in a bit," she murmured quickly, avoiding the question for now, "Anyway, then a second Death Eater appeared and I was hit twice. My wand was destroyed the first time. Then I was blown off the thestral and knocked unconscious. Before I blacked out I felt myself falling…"

"Shit, Hermione," Ron swore.

"I'm not really sure what happened after that; I was out cold but I must have fallen hundreds of metres. I don't know where Kingsley went or what he was doing. The next thing I remember was feeling somebody's arms slowing me down, and then I woke up to the ground rushing up at me as we both tumbled forwards from their broom and into the undergrowth of a wooded area."

"Somebody caught you?" Harry questioned in shock, "And it obviously wasn't Kingsley. So who?"

Hermione took a deep breath, reminding herself to stay calm and not let herself be overwhelmed. Then she met her friend's eye.

"Harry…the thing is… it was…um…Draco."

"_Malfoy_?" Ron spat, his expression one of disgust. Harry just blinked rapidly, his face blank, as if he were trying to process this.

"He was the one who didn't attack us earlier too," she explained nervously, "he was just hovering there behind some clouds trying to avoid the fight. But when he saw me falling, he flew down after me and managed to catch me."

"Are you telling me that the selfish ferret actually helped you?" her ginger haired friend asked sceptically.

"Yes, he saved my life."

"And what did the git want in return?"

Hermione frowned and looked between the two boys. Ron had, as usual, gone on the offensive by immediately suspecting Draco of foul play or ulterior motives. Harry on the other hand was sitting almost sullenly, his expression puzzled. He hadn't said a word.

"Listen, I want you to hear me out and keep an open mind-" she started.

"Yeh right," Ron scoffed.

"Ronald Weasley, that's enough! You pay attention now," she scolded, knowing she had a lot of old prejudices to overcome, "I am alive today _only _because Draco saved me that night. And he put his own life at risk to do so. You need to believe me when I tell you that he is not the same person you think you know. And he hasn't been for years. He never wanted to be a Death Eater, not even for a second."

"How do you know?" Harry asked quietly, but he didn't sound accusatory, just curious.

"Because after he saved my life we escaped together. I had no wand so I wasn't out of the woods yet. I begged him to come with me. And we've been together ever since."

"You've been with _Malfoy?_" Ron asked in shock, looking a bit queasy as his face turned a sickly shade of white.

"Yes. He did save my life after all, so I felt it was my responsibility to return the favour. I've been helping him to remove his dark mark so You-Know-Who and his father can't track him down. Then Professor McGonagall found me a wand and now…here I am."

"But that slimy little-"

Hermione held up a hand, stemming Ron's arguments. She couldn't bear to keep pretending like the very mention of Draco's name wasn't breaking her heart.

"I _don't_ want to keep talking about Draco. _Please_ Ron, I really don't. I don't need to defend him. What happened is the truth and you need to just accept it. You need to just believe me."

Harry chimed in at this point, his voice soft and serious.

"I believe you," he told her earnestly, tugging her into an affectionate hug, "I saw it with my own eyes that night on the Astronomy Tower. I know his heart wasn't in it."

"Thank you, Harry," she murmured into his shoulder, blinking back tears. She was rather surprised that he wasn't the one freaking out, but then she supposed he had been forced to grow up a lot this last year or so. Maybe she wasn't giving him enough credit.

"I guess that just leaves one question then," Ron chimed in, and he seemed to be trying to put the topic behind them and adopt a more casual demeanour.

"What's that?" she asked warily.

"Do _you_ have any idea how the hell we're supposed to break into the ministry of magic?"

…

…

…

**Hope you enjoyed seeing the trio's reunion, and that you don't feel too sorry for poor Draco. Please review.**


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**And we're back, a little early this week. I think it's time for some deep and meaningful conversations. So buckle up. **

**As always, JKR is the source for all this!**

**…**

**…**

**Chapter Fifteen**

**…**

**…**

Hermione couldn't help feeling restless as she tossed and turned under the blankets. It was cold in this big old house, and she had grown used to having somebody else's body heat pressed against her all night. It had been a few hours now since she had surprised the boys and arrived at Grimmauld Place. They had whiled away the evening catching up and just spending time together, thankful to be united once more. Kreacher had cooked them a hearty meal, and Harry and Ron had filled her in on everything that had happened after the Burrow including how they'd discovered the location of the real horcrux. Hermione didn't even want to contemplate that just yet. She'd launch herself into planning mode tomorrow, but tonight she refused to spoil their reunion by thinking about that cow Umbridge.

With a sigh, Hermione shifted to lie on her back and stare up at the ceiling. To her left she could hear Ron snoring loudly and she smiled. Not wanting to be spread out among the dusty and frankly rather creepy rooms of the house, the three of them were all camping out in the living room together. Ron and Harry had thrown together some blankets on the floor near the dying fireplace, chivalrously leaving her with the slightly lumpy couch nearby.

And yet she couldn't sleep.

Earlier Hermione had begged off their company briefly to go take a shower under the rusty pipes of the downstairs bathroom. A few charms had done the trick, making the water warm and soothing as she soaped her hair. And underneath the spray she had finally broken down. Hermione had let the grief from earlier that day overwhelm her as she mourned the loss of the first boy she thought she might have come to love. A part of her had cursed herself for getting too involved. She'd known they were probably going to split up eventually, so why had she let herself get carried away? Why had she put her heart on the line? She'd even lost her virginity to the Slytherin boy who had probably by now fled thousands of miles away. And for what? For a few nights of mindless passion and a crushed spirit to show for it?

But it was no use. Try as she might, Hermione simply couldn't regret what they'd done. He had revealed his good character this last month or so, exposing his true self and making himself vulnerable to her. There had been no going back once she saw the real Draco. And in the end she had needed him just as much as he had needed her. Now she simply couldn't imagine anyone else as her first.

But he would probably never forgive her. Even though he'd left her no choice. She had to be here, fighting alongside Harry. And Draco needed to make his own decisions. She could never coerce someone else into risking their life for any cause. He had to follow his own path. Even if it led him away from her.

But by Merlin she missed him. It had been less than a day but the feeling was so strong already. She missed that wry smile that curled one corner of his lip when he found something amusing. She missed his stupid sarcastic drawl. She missed the open interest and admiration in his gaze when she spoke to him about something bookish. She missed the way he held her and touched her like she was the most precious thing in the world to him.

And yet her mind was still clouded by the image of his miserable face as he watched her disappearing from the forest. She had betrayed his trust and she wished she could reach out to him now and say something. Explain herself, ask for forgiveness or just embrace him again. Anything to rid herself of the guilt she felt. Here she was, surrounded by the comforting sounds and smells of her two best friends, while Draco was all alone… again.

With a slight sniffle, Hermione wiped her cheeks and realised she'd started crying silently as she thought about him. With a tired groan, she sat upright. There was simply no use trying to sleep like this. Careful not to make a sound or step on any creaking floorboards, Hermione stepped carefully around the two boys in front of her and made her way to the window. She perched herself on the sill, which was just wide enough to sit on, and tucked her knees up under her chin. The night was clear and still, and the street below was illuminated by a few flickering lampposts. As the minutes passed by, she traced a crack in the glass indolently with the tip of her finger.

"Are you okay?"

Hermione jumped, startled by the unexpected presence beside her. She swivelled her head around to see Harry standing next to her at the window, watching her with undisguised concern. She saw him follow the tracks of tears down her cheeks with his eyes and she swallowed.

"Yeh…um…yes, I'm fine," she stammered, though it would have sounded more convincing if her voice hadn't been croaky and tearful. Harry frowned. He eased himself onto the windowsill next to her, his hair even more messed up than usual from sleeping on it. The two of them sat quietly together for a long time, staring out the window. Behind them, the only sound in the room was the gentle snoring of Ron who was flopped over on his stomach, legs akimbo. Eventually Harry cleared his throat, leaning over his knees to meet her eye, his expression serious.

"You're sad about Malfoy, aren't you?"

Hermione blinked in surprise.

"W…what?"

"That's why you're crying," he murmured, staring down at his knees, "because of Malfoy. Am I wrong?"

"Harry, it's complicated…"

"You're clearly upset. Did he do something to you? Did he hurt you?"

She smiled softly at him. Typical Harry was always so protective, so ready to defend his friends. And of course he was also quick to jump to all the wrong conclusions where Draco was concerned.

"No, of course not. He was…we…" her voice trailed off as she struggled with what she should tell him, how she would phrase the next part of that sentence. But she didn't have to. Harry's gaze shot up to hers, looking a little queasy as he spoke.

"You and Malfoy didn't… you weren't _together, _were you?"

Her face paled but she slowly nodded, confirming his suspicions. Harry's eyes widened in horror.

"Christ, Hermione…"

"I know what you're thinking-"

"That the git used to bully you and call you a mudblood?"

She let out a breath, chuckling quietly and shaking her head indulgently. It was nothing she hadn't thought of herself before she actually got to know him.

"I know Draco and I have more than our fair share of history," she explained with a fond smile, "but he's not like that anymore. That was all Lucius talking."

"They always seemed pretty similar to me," Harry grumbled.

"You said yourself that he didn't want to kill Professor Dumbledore, Harry. That he lowered his wand."

"Yeh I suppose."

"Well…it's been a long time since he started seeing through his father's brainwashing. He _hates _Lucius. And he never wanted to be a Death Eater. You should have seen his face when we found a way to remove the dark mark. He was so excited, giddy even, to finally be free from it."

Harry sighed, running his hands through his scruffy hair and looking out the window a bit petulantly.

"Alright," he whispered, his eyes flickering over to where Ron was still snoring steadily, "I accept that he's changed. That he's not evil or anything. But did you really have to get…you know… _involved _with him?"

Hermione snorted quietly at the slightly nauseous look on her friend's face.

"It's not like I wanted to fall for the most arrogant prat to ever walk the halls of Hogwarts," she told him with a wry smile, "It just happened. We just…liked each other."

"What's to like about Malfoy?"

"Well, he's very considerate, he has a wicked sense of humour and of course he's smart…"

Harry stared at her in disbelief.

"Are we talking about the same person?"

She shook her head with a smile. Harry didn't look particularly happy, but at least he wasn't yelling at her or freaking out. That was a good start.

"Harry, can you do something for me?"

"What?" he asked dubiously.

"I want you to think for a moment about your cousin Dudley. And what a horrible little snot he was growing up-"

"Oh there was _nothing _little about Dudley, except maybe his brain."

"Harry-"

"Right, sorry. What about him?"

Hermione sighed, leaning her head against the windowpane.

"You told me that, during this last summer, he tried to reach out to you, to say sorry and extend an olive branch."

"Yeh, so?"

"Well…do you really blame Dudley for being the way he was when he was only an ignorant child? Or was it the fault of your aunt and uncle for being the ones who moulded him into such a greedy, selfish bully?"

Harry thought about this for a long moment, cocking his head to one side.

"I guess it was my aunt and uncle's fault. They brought him up believing that he was better than me. That he could pick on me because my feelings didn't matter."

"Exactly. It wasn't until he was older and could think for himself that he was mature enough to see things differently."

Harry rubbed mindlessly at his scar, his brows furrowing as he thought this over.

"So you're saying Malfoy is the same?"

"Think about it. Lucius shaped him into a spiteful little child right from the day he was born. It wasn't until he got older that he formed his _own _views and his own character. But by the time he did, it was too dangerous to show it."

Harry contemplated her words for a long time, fiddling with an errant strand of hair that had fallen over his forehead. Eventually he let out a long breath and met her gaze, still looking a little confused.

"So why are you upset then?"

"What do you mean?"

Harry shrugged.

"Well it sounds like you really…_eurgh_…care about Malfoy," he said it with some distaste, but quickly moved on, "and you've been talking so positively about him. So why were you crying your eyes out a few minutes ago? Did you guys break up?"

Hermione drew in a deep breath, closing her eyes for a second as she tried her best not to sink back into thoughts of Malfoy's heartbroken expression as she left him.

"I guess we did in a way," she explained slowly, her heart clenching a bit, "although it's not like we were a couple or anything. But once his dark mark was gone…Well, I needed to return to you and Ron. And Draco…"

"Didn't want anything to do with us, I'm guessing."

Her heart clenched sadly at the memory of their last conversation.

"Partly. He's also… scared. I don't think he's ready to face his father again. He tried to convince me to go with him. To run away."

Harry snorted.

"As if. Has he even met you?"

Hermione smiled wryly and shook her head.

"I believe it was fairly wishful thinking on his part. So in the end I had to make a decision. I had to turn my back on him. But I don't think he was expecting me to just…leave like that. It was so awful," she sniffed a bit, feeling her eyes welling up again. But before she could turn her head away, Harry drew her closer, his arms soft and comforting as he pulled her against him. They were sitting there a bit clumsily together on the narrow windowsill, but she let him hold her for a long moment as she cried silently into his shoulder.

"Please don't smack me for saying this," Harry's muffled voice spoke into her hair a couple of minutes later after her tears had subsided a bit. Hermione leaned back to look at him apprehensively as he continued, "but I had sort of thought that maybe…you and Ron…"

Hermione glanced behind them to where Ron was mumbling in his sleep, one leg kicking out from under the blankets every few seconds.

"Maybe. I know I used to think about it," she sighed, "but it's different now. Ron and I always had our _tension_ over the years… but Draco and I…well…"

"I probably don't want to hear about it, do I?"

"Probably not," she agreed with a laugh.

"This is a lot to absorb," Harry told her with a somewhat uneasy expression.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked, knowing that Harry's past with Draco was a lot to overcome in just one conversation. But her friend just looked surprised, and he reached up with both hands to gently wipe the wet tear marks from her cheeks.

"Of course not. I…Hermione…" Harry's voice became strangled and he held her gaze as his hands held her cheeks tenderly. He seemed to grapple with himself before saying, "when I thought you were dead... it…it destroyed me. More than anything else ever has."

Hermione's chest felt tight and she saw Harry's eyes also fill with tears, his expression haunted. He continued in a rasping whisper,

"And I was so…_furious_ with myself. All I could think about was what a terrible friend I'd been, and how I'd always taken you for granted"

"No Harry, that's not-"

"Please let me finish," he begged, "this isn't easy for me to say. My life with the Dursleys sucked for eleven years, and then I found out I was a wizard and… slowly things got better. I found a home at Hogwarts, and the Weasleys started to feel like family for the first time. But what I don't think you realise is that _you're _my family too. You and I… we're not like Ron. We only have each other. And it broke my heart knowing that I'd never had the guts to just _tell _you that I love you. That you're like my sister…"

Hermione was crying again, her heart light and heavy all at the same time as she smiled shakily at the boy in front of her who had, at some point, grown into a man.

"I love you too, Harry. And I'm so sorry I put you through that..."

"Don't be sorry! Please, it wasn't your fault. And as for Malfoy…just tell me that you were happy. That he was good to you. I don't care about anything else."

Hermione nodded, smiling and crying all at once.

"I miss him," she whispered, letting Harry wipe her cheeks again as they comforted each other. Then they laughed a bit at the absurdity of the moment, having let their emotions turn them both into weeping fools.

"Alright then," he murmured, "but promise me that if he _does _ever hurt you, I'm allowed to beat the living snot out of him."

"That's fair," she chuckled, before leaning her head down onto his shoulder again and letting him wrap his arm around her, drawing her close, "although it's a moot point. He's probably a thousand miles away by now."

"I wouldn't underestimate Malfoy's ability to be a wanker, even at a distance," he joked, forcing a laugh out of her as well.

"There's only one more problem now," she pointed out, peering up to meet his eye. Harry raised one eyebrow questioningly.

"And that is?"

"How the bloody hell do I tell Ron?"

…

…

…

When the two strange looking figures arrived at a small park in the late morning, a steady drizzle masked the city stretching out around them. But despite the lack of soft golden sunlight on winding cobblestoned streets, it was still distinctively Rome. Draco took a deep breath, wondering if it was his imagination or there was something different about the air here in Italy, whether it was fresher away from the toxic war riddling wizarding Britain right now.

"We is here, Master Draco, unseen!" Dobby squeaked at his side. Draco glanced around and saw that they were indeed concealed by some well-manicured gardens. He quickly lowered himself to the elf's level, crouching beside him and smiling affectionately.

"Thank you, Dobby. I couldn't have done it without you."

"It is Dobby's pleasure, sir!"

For a moment Draco thought of the hours he had spent with the little guy. He remembered playing on his broomstick and laughing as he chased the little gold ball being rushed around the back yard by a tired but still beaming elf.

"Dobby… I want you to be honest with me. After you were freed by my father, were you happy? Have you lived a good life since then?"

Dobby's eyes widened but he nodded vigorously in the affirmative.

"Oh yes, Sir! Dobby misses Master Draco terribly, but he is working for a salary now. And Dobby gets one day off every month. Headmaster Dumbledore tried to convince Dobby to take four days off, but we is talking him down."

Draco snorted, knowing how house elves could be with their duties. He'd grown up around them, after all. They were incorrigible.

"That's good," he told him with a smile, "I'm glad you're finally being treated like you deserve."

Dobby's eyes grew misty, filling with tears. His bottom lip quivered as he stared dolefully up at the blond boy.

"Master Draco has grown up into a kind, good wizard!"

"Oh…er… thank you Dobby."

The elf tugged on his lumpy little hat, fixing it on his head firmly to ward off the drizzle raining down on them.

"Is Master Draco wanting anything else? Dobby must return…"

Draco considered the small figure before him, an idea striking him suddenly. He took a quick breath and placed a friendly hand on the elf's shoulder.

"Actually Dobby, can I ask you for a _big_ favour?"

"Anything, Sir!"

"Do you know Hermione Granger?"

Dobby jumped half a foot into the air, his crooked teeth bared as he stretched his lips into a wide grin.

"Miss Hermninny? Of course! She is Harry Potter's best friend! And she is the one who is knitting all of Dobby's wonderful jumpers."

Draco eyed the elf up and down, noticing the sheer number of layers he was wearing. Come to think of it, they did appear rather homemade, and he wouldn't put it past someone like Hermione to be odd enough to knit clothes for house elves.

"Yes, well she happens to be very…_important_ to me," he worded carefully, trying to ignore the look of awe on the elf's face as he pieced this titbit of information together.

"Miss Hermninny is Master's…_girlfriend?_" he whispered the last word excitedly. Draco blinked a bit, his heart skipping at the words. If things had been different, such as their entire lives and everyone in it, then the term would have thrilled him. Maybe in another world she really could have been his girlfriend. Now it just left a bitter kind of sadness in his gut.

"Um…sort of I suppose. Anyway, I was hoping you could keep an eye on her for me. In case she gets into trouble-"

"Oh yes, Sir! My pleasure, Sir! Dobby will watch Master Draco's witch very closely. Dobby will protect her _and_ Harry Potter with his life!"

"Well, that second one is not strictly essential," he muttered to himself, even though he knew it was a lie. He wanted Potter to survive purely because it would break Hermione's heart if something happened to him. And it would help if the so-called Chosen One took down the Dark Lord too, he supposed.

"What was that, Master?"

"Nothing," he hastily replied, giving the elf a comforting smile, "thank you, Dobby. I feel much better knowing that she has _you _for a protector."

"You can count on Dobby, Master!"

"I know I can."

With a final goodbye, the elf disappeared with a crack, leaving Draco alone. He stared at the space where the little guy had vanished, hoping that the poor creature would be careful, but also feeling reassured that Hermione would have another guardian watching out for her. It was all he could do from here, really. With a sigh, Draco turned towards the banking district to his left, his eyes searching out the same building his grandfather had once pointed out to him.

This was it. His new life was starting today.

He only now wondered why it all felt so hollow.

…

…

…

**_4 months later…_**

The last winter snowfall was just beginning to melt as they trudged the long path through the forest. You could hear a creek trickling gently in the distance. Hermione glanced over her shoulder at her two friends, plodding along behind her. Neither had dared to complain about all the walking as they searched out their next camping spot. They were too elated about finally destroying a horcrux. Not to mention the relief of getting rid of that damn necklace and the insidious darkness it had spread among them.

Hermione was personally just glad to have Ron back with them once more. After he had found out about her brief relationship with Draco, the locket had played on his emotions worse than any of them. His jealousy and bitterness had got the better of him and eventually he'd left them. But now he'd returned. He'd waltzed back into her life dripping wet and clutching the sword of Gryffindor in his shivering hands. There was still a lot of tension there, but she was trying to ignore it in favour of concentrating on their mission. That was the most important thing now.

Finding a good spot up against a rocky cliff, which protected them from the wild winds of the north, Hermione called a halt to their little expedition. She smiled at the two matching groans as Harry and Ron slumped over in relief. But she didn't let them rest for long. They needed to ward the area carefully and put up the usual defences. Harry helped her with the charms while Ron obligingly set up the tent and got a fire going. He was obviously working hard to try and get back into their good books, and she certainly wasn't going to stop him.

A couple of hours and one rather flavourless soup later, Hermione sat on sentry duty at the mouth of the tent while the boys chatted softly behind her inside. She lost track of time, buried in her own thoughts as she dwelled on the same thing that always plagued her on these late nights. It had been four months now since she'd seen or heard from Draco, but she still thought about him every day. There was no way to contact him, or vice versa. The galleon she'd given him was really only for emergencies, considering that it could barely fit more than two or three words together on it.

Hermione had managed to get by all right at first. She'd been fuelled by her determination to find and destroy horcruxes, not to mention her delight at being reunited with her friends. But as the weeks dragged by and their mission became more gruelling than gratifying, she had found herself pining more often, drifting off into her still vivid memories of Draco. She replayed every moment of their time together on a loop in her head, wondering when it had all become so serious for her. There was no denying that Draco had burrowed his way irrevocably into her heart. She only wished she knew whether he was safe and happy. Had he found his peace? Was he doing well for himself now that he was finally free of his father?

Hermione heard the tent flap opening behind her in a rustle of material and she turned and smiled at Ron as he came and sat down cross-legged beside her. He began warming his hands on the small blue flamed fire she had created with magic. She knew how much he loved her little fires.

"It's not your turn to keep watch yet," she commented, looking down at the time on her wrist with a questioning lift of one eyebrow in his direction.

"I know. Harry's getting some sleep. If you ask me, I think he's still got hypothermia. Keeps shivering."

"Poor Harry," she murmured, "he's really glad to have you back. We both are."

Ron nodded, flushing a dark shade of pink right up to the tips of his ears and dropping his gaze to stare at the ground. He fiddled nervously with a leaf.

"I know I've said it about a hundred times in the last twenty four hours but… I really am sorry for leaving you. And for the things I said."

"Ron, you don't have to-"

"I do," he insisted, leaning forwards and meeting her eye again, "I know I hurt you. And that you're still upset, even though you're hiding it for Harry's sake."

"There's no point moping about it," she told him quietly, "I'd rather move on and just be good friends again."

"I appreciate that. I really do. Merlin knows we probably wouldn't still be friends if you weren't so forgiving."

"Maybe not," she agreed with a wry smile, and they both chuckled, breaking the tension nicely.

"But before we do move on…" he continued warily, looking sheepish, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"When I was wearing that damn locket, my mind kept plaguing me with horrible thoughts until it all just burst out at once that day when I yelled at you. It wasn't until just after I'd apparated away that I realised what a prat I'd been. I didn't seem to be able to really think or reason with myself. But now…"

He paused, eyes darting up to hers as his blush spread down his neck and under his collar.

"Do you think…well, if you hadn't been thrown together with…with Malfoy…if you two hadn't spent all that time together, saving each other's lives and everything… do you think _we _would have ended up together?"

Hermione blinked, contemplating her friend, whose face had turned a deep shade of crimson that matched his hair colour horribly. His freckles stood out starkly against pale skin.

"I…I don't know, Ron. I'm sorry. I did fancy you for a while, years even. But in the back of my mind I was always scared. I was terrified that perhaps it was a nice idea, but in reality we'd just want to kill each other."

Ron snorted.

"And you _don't _want to kill Malfoy on a daily basis?"

She smirked in amusement, thinking of her many arguments with the blond Slytherin boy.

"Oh much more often than that. But Draco and I had nothing to lose. With you, I couldn't get over the thought that I'd be risking our friendship, the nature of our bond with Harry, even my relationship with your family, if we broke up."

Ron swallowed visibly, rubbing his nose.

"And if we _didn't _break up?"

She sighed.

"Ron…do you really want to be with someone like me? Someone boring and bossy and…"

Ron's expression became angry and she saw a muscle twitch in his jaw.

"Don't be ridiculous, Hermione. You're not…_boring_…I think you're the most amazing witch I've ever met."

Hermione's eyelashes fluttered as she tried to absorb what Ron had said. She'd _never _heard him speak so openly or express such emotion before. Her mouth went dry. But rather than feeling pleasure at his words, all she felt was dread. Because she knew that she was going to hurt him, and that was the last thing she wanted.

"Ron… you know I love you. You and Harry and me… we're like soul mates-"

His face paled even further as he twisted his hands together.

"But?" he prompted fatalistically.

"_But_ I don't want things to change between us. I…I… _need_ you to be my friend. Please tell me I won't lose that."

Ron shook his head, his eyes shining a bit. He wiped impatiently at his nose and tried to force out a smile.

"Of course you won't. You'll always be my friend, Hermione. I already thought I lost you once and I refuse to let you leave me again. Even if it means… knowing that we can't be together. And accepting that you have feelings for ferret face."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the familiar insult, but she supposed he was being pretty mature about the whole thing, so she wasn't going to nit pick. With a shaky smile, she touched her hand to the back of Ron's. After everything that had happened in the last day or so, she realised that she really was lucky to have him by her side once more. She'd missed him. And to her astonishment it seemed he was even willing to tolerate Draco for her sake. Not that it was an issue right now.

"So…do you think he'll come back here once this is all over? If we win, I mean," Ron asked, his face almost green as he spoke about Draco. Hermione grimaced.

"I don't know. We didn't really get a chance to talk about it."

"Do you think he feels the same way about you?" he asked uncomfortably, in full on protective friend mode, with only a hint of jealousy underneath. Hermione smiled fondly.

"I know he does. He was even more open about it than I was."

"Gross," Ron commented, his face scrunched up with distaste, before continuing, "So if he comes back, will you get back together with him?"

Hermione considered the question briefly, knowing that it certainly wasn't the first time she'd wondered this exact same thing herself.

"We'll have to wait and see. There's a lot still standing in the way of that happening. All I can think about right now is finding horcruxes and keeping us safe. Although having the sword of Gryffindor is certainly a boon."

"I dunno, we almost lost Harry at the bottom of a pond trying to retrieve it. Hardly a dignified way to go for the Chosen One."

Hermione chuckled.

"Well I guess that's why it's _our_ job to be all heroic and pull him out."

"You mean we're not just glorified sidekicks?" Ron joked and they laughed together.

"I suspect, Ronald Weasley, that we might be the only thing holding Harry together right now. He needs us."

She felt his hand turn over in hers and then they were clasped together firmly.

"We're going to get through this," Ron told her with such genuine conviction that she felt warmed to the very depths of he soul, "The three of us have endured and overcome so much together. Nothing can really break us, I don't think."

"You're right," she murmured her agreement, "Let's do this. For Harry."

"And for Malfoy," he muttered, his voice a little embarrassed, but she could see the pity and the concern shining from his eyes. She knew now that he had actually listened to her all those weeks ago when she had explained what had happened to the Slytherin. How he had been abused and twisted by the evil of his father and Lord Voldemort.

With a sob, Hermione threw her arms around her ginger haired friend. She held him fiercely in a hug, not willing to relax her arms even a little until finally she felt him return it. The two of them sat like that for a long time on the forest floor, resting in the cold air of early Spring. And Hermione felt the strain of months of worry ease away from her heart, glad that she was exactly where she belonged right now.

…

…

…

Later that night, or sometime during the early morning, Hermione was drifting in and out of a light sleep when something burned hot and sharp against her skin. Jolting awake and sitting upright, she fumbled under her pillow, her mind still a bit fuzzy. On the other side of the tent she heard Ron's gentle snoring, and Harry was now on guard duty outside fiddling as usual with the golden snitch that Dumbledore had left him.

Fishing out the gold galleon with trembling fingers, she turned it over and her eyes traced the numbers etched there. The surface was still scorching hot as she pieced together the code he'd left her. Since Draco had her original galleon, he was now the one who could send messages and she could receive them. The numbers just barely fit around the edges.

9…13…9…19…19…25…15…21

Hermione blinked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as her heart clenched with emotion.

_I miss you._

And just like that, she was thrown into a tailspin, questioning everything once more.

…

…

…

**So YES, we have skipped ahead in time a bit. I can't just recount the whole of Deathly Hallows, sorry! We're on the fast track now. Please review!**


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Hi everyone – things are going to be ****_happening_**** this chapter! Moving forwards! Onwards! Upwards! I would love to hear what you want from this story – what kind of HEA you looking for?**

**As always, JKR is the original creator.**

**…**

**Chapter Sixteen**

**…**

**…**

"So let me get this straight," Blaise asked, his face a portrait of total bewilderment behind his dark sunglasses, "you saved Granger's life, abandoned the Death Eaters, then shagged her brains out while she got rid of your mark and then you just… left her?"

Draco sighed, glad for the muffling spell he'd cast around their table. They were sitting at a table near the glistening Mediterranean harbour somewhere in Tuscany. Blaise had agreed to meet with him a few times now, and had helped Draco find his feet here. Naturally the wealthy Slytherin boy had chosen a ridiculously fancy restaurant for them to frequent, and the two had drunk more than one bottle of wine that evening as the sun started to dip below the horizon.

"You're oversimplifying it a bit," he argued weakly, still wondering if it was a good idea to share his whole story with the boy. They weren't even friends, not really. Draco wasn't sure he actually knew how to be friends with someone. Blaise was a consummate Slytherin; spoilt and entirely too clever for his own good. He was no Death Eater, that was certain. Blaise had always hated all that pureblood nonsense. But he knew how to survive.

"Maybe I'm not understanding something…" the brown haired boy muttered, smoothing back a loose strand into his perfectly coiffed style.

"I didn't leave her. She left _me,_" Draco explained sullenly.

"But why?"

"To return to Potter and Weasel and whatever suicide mission Dumbledore sent them on."

"Seriously? She left you for that nut job and his rodent? Were you not good in the sack or something?"

Draco spluttered, almost spitting out the merlot he was sipping from.

"What? No, I was…more than adequate…"

"Did you make her cum?"

"Blaise!"

"What?"

"I don't want to talk about… _that. _I should never have told you."

Blaise snorted and leaned back in his chair, giving Draco a meaningful look over the top of his sunglasses.

"Oh please. The virgin prince of Slytherin finally got laid. That's the most interesting news I've heard for months."

Draco frowned at the unexpected nickname, wondering how Blaise knew he hadn't had sex before Hermione.

"How did you…"

"Come on, mate. Just because Vince and Greg were as oblivious as flobberworms doesn't mean we all were. You never showed even a bit of genuine interest in a girl while we were at school. To be honest I wondered if you were playing seeker for the other team, if you catch my drift."

"What about Pansy?"

Blaise chortled, taking a sip from his wine glass.

"Don't make me vomit. She would never have acted so desperate if she were actually getting some from you. The tighter she clung the more sure I was that you were _not_ screwing her."

"Charming, Blaise."

The other boy swirled his glass around in circles, watching the wine slosh against the edges.

"Which brings me back to my previous train of thought… what was Granger like in the sack? I always imagined her being a little firecracker."

"Blaise…"

"Was she totally hot without all those layers of robes weighing her down?"

"_Blaise-_"

"I bet she studied your cock like a textbook, probably even earned an Outstanding!"

"ENOUGH!"

Draco covered his face with his hands, groaning at the line of questions Blaise had been firing at him. Not only were they rather demeaning, it was also something he very much wanted to keep private. He should never have let the other boy wheedle the truth out of him.

"Did you not enjoy it?" Blaise asked him with a horrified expression.

"Of course I enjoyed it, I just don't want to bloody talk about it."

"Right," the other boy rolled his eyes, taking a long gulp of his wine before popping a handful of peanuts in his mouth from the table, "So why didn't you tag along for the ride then like she suggested? Merlin knows those two morons could have used some help from a cunning Slytherin."

"I couldn't stay! Lucius is still alive. He'd be there…he'd keep hunting me down!"

"I see your daddy issues haven't gone away."

Draco glared at the other boy, slumping forwards to rest his elbows on the table.

"You don't understand," he grumbled.

"You're right, I guess I don't," Blaise sighed theatrically, "see, if I had a beautiful and talented witch willing to wrap her legs around me and shag like a pair of blast ended skrewts, I'd have probably fought a thousand wars."

Draco snorted derisively.

"As if. You move onto a new girl every second week. You don't even know what love is," he taunted. Blaise tilted his sunglasses down and gave him a sharp, pointed look.

"Oh! And you do, hey?"

"What?"

"Love, Draco? Really?"

Draco squirmed, knowing he'd stuck his big stupid foot in it.

"Shut up," he grumbled as Blaise threw his head back and laughed. Then he clapped Draco on the shoulder and shook his head with a disbelieving chuckle.

"_Hermione Granger_. I still can't believe it."

"I know," Draco agreed with a wry little smirk, "Who could have predicted this?"

Blaise let out a long breath before cocking his head to one side lifting one questioning eyebrow.

"Well, when you think about it... it kinda makes sense."

Draco frowned.

"What? Really?"

"Yeh… I mean let's look at the facts. You were the top two students in our class by a _long _way. You were both prefects. And um…well…that's about it. I ran out of things you have in common," he joked, grinning, "Seriously, this is all very shocking. I thought you hated muggleborns."

"What gave you that impression?" he asked dryly, making Blaise snort.

"Oh I dunno. Every comment you've ever made?"

"Come on, I haven't spouted that nonsense since third year."

Blaise considered this with a thoughtful expression.

"Huh…I guess. I always thought I'd just started tuning you out. But now you mention it, you did grow a bit soft the last couple of years. Makes me wonder why you and I didn't become friends."

Draco shrugged.

"I still had to pretend. The Dark Lord was literally living in my house."

Blaise groaned, tilting his head back and mimed being sick.

"Can you stop with all the _Dark Lord _stuff? Just call him You-Know-Who like everyone else."

"Sorry," Draco apologised sheepishly, "force of habit."

The two of them took a sip of their wine and looked out as a boat set sail from the harbour in front of them. It was peaceful here, and very picturesque. He was, however, letting his skin get a bit too pink from the constant sunshine.

"So explain something to me then," Blaise started up again in a low drawl, "if something terrible happens to your girlfriend, won't you feel bad for letting her go? If she dies…"

"Don't say that!" Draco spat angrily, a tingle of fear running down his spine, "she's going to be fine, alright? She's with Potter – the Boy Who Refuses to Die!"

Blaise shot him a critical look, skimming his finger around the rim of his wine glass.

"You can't be serious! I know they've survived all kinds of shit, but the risk is still very real. Just because she's with Potter's stubborn ass doesn't mean she can't be killed. Granger's smart but not invincible."

"Can you please stop talking about it?" Draco begged, draining the rest of the wine in his glass and pouring a generous refill.

"Alright," Blaise shrugged, "But it sounds to me like you haven't really thought this through."

"I'm trying_ not_ to think about the danger she's facing."

"Ah, denial! Classic technique for starting a new life."

"Let's just change the topic…" Draco groaned, running his hands through his hair, making it stick up in all directions. Blaise nodded reluctantly, raising his glass to him before taking a long sip. They both sat there pensively for a moment, staring out at the horizon as the distant horn of a ship coming past the headland sounded.

"So…" the other boy began, a cheeky smirk returning to his face, "is Granger bossy in the bedroom too? Did she order you around?"

Draco's face turned a deep shade of crimson, even over his sunburn.

"BLAISE!"

…

…

…

Hermione winced as the hand that was wrapped in her hair tugged harder, causing the roots to sting angrily. Her face was swollen from being tackled to the ground and she could feel a bruise forming on her cheek. Her mind was spinning with panicked thoughts and questions.

_Think Hermione… come on, there must be something you can do…_

But try as she might, without her wand she couldn't come up with a single plan that would help them right now. Her heart pounded with adrenalin and terror as the burly snatcher dragged her up an ornate stone staircase leading to a pair of tall double doors. She had a bad feeling she knew where they were being taken. Blinking dazedly up at the opulent mansion looming out of the darkness, she could only form one conclusion.

They'd been brought to Malfoy manor.

Hermione clenched her eyes shut as she was shoved roughly through the door. She could hear the grunts of her two best friends behind her as they struggled to get free. She was still a little stunned from the curse that had taken her down, but at least she'd attempted to hide Harry's identity before she was hit. Hopefully it would buy them some time.

The creaking of a door and the yells of the snatchers filled her head as the three of them were paraded into a large looking drawing room with a grand fireplace to one side. She barely even had time to glance at the tapestries and portraits lining the walls before a door on the opposite side of the room opened.

Then Bellatrix Lestrange was striding into the room, followed by the last two people in the world she wanted to see right now; Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

"We caught these three in the Forest of Dean. Thought you might be interested. Take a look 'ere," the snatchers pushed them forwards, bringing the three of them to their knees, though Harry was slumped over almost on his side, blinking through the stinging jinx she'd shot him with. Hermione watched, her pulse racing with dread, as Draco's aunt and father stepped towards her. Bellatrix looked mad as usual, her sunken eyes alight with something ferocious.

But Hermione's attention was drawn to Lucius Malfoy; the man who looked so much like _her _Draco and yet was a virtual stranger to her. His steely grey eyes seemed so familiar, but were callous and filled with a dark curiosity as he stared down at the two boys. Then she saw the moment his eyes passed over to her and he froze. She watched his jaw clench tight and his whole body seemed to shudder with horror. They locked gazes. And she realised she'd never been regarded with such intense hatred in her entire life. Was it just because she was a mudblood? Or something far worse; a possibility she was too scared to even imagine.

"_You_," he hissed under his breath so quietly she was sure no one else heard it over the triumphant cackles of Bellatrix.

_Okay…this is bad…very bad… _

Hermione willed him to just move on, to lock them in the basement while the snatchers argued about payment as someone had suggested earlier, and to ignore her. Maybe they'd find a chance to escape somehow out of sight.

Then Bellatrix spotted the sword of Gryffindor and everything went to hell.

She lost control, whipping spells at the snatchers and yelling for them to get out. Clearly she didn't want any outsiders to witness her panicked frenzy as she realised someone had been into her Gringotts vault.

_Why is she so obsessed with her bank vault? _

Once the room had been cleared, the mad witch started gesturing towards Ron, who was the least injured of the three of them, insisting that he stay for an interrogation while the others were locked away. But just as Pettigrew moved forwards, jabbing his wands towards her and Harry, Lucius finally seemed to come to a decision. He stepped forwards calmly.

"Wait," he commanded in an icy tone, "This one. Let's interrogate this one," he pointed down at _her_, but she just glared right back. She wasn't going to be intimidated by him.

The others agreed and, before she even knew what was happening, the boys had been dragged from the room. She could hear them kicking and screaming, calling out her name (her real name) as they were forcibly taken down to the cellar by a couple of bulky death eaters. So much for keeping their identity a secret.

"We should call _him!_" Bellatrix mumbled fanatically, pushing up her sleeve to expose her dark mark.

"No," Lucius snapped, "I need information from the mudblood first."

Bellatrix nodded, her eyes wide and crazed, almost like a child.

"You're right. Ask her how she got the sword!"

Lucius approached her slowly, rolling up his sleeves deliberately as he did. Hermione didn't blink. She didn't want to show any fear even though her heart was hammering in her chest and her palms had started to sweat.

"You have something of mine, mudblood," he growled through his teeth, leaning forwards to speak threateningly in her ear. It was then that she realised that Lucius meant Draco. Which meant he _knew. _He must have heard it from Kingsley, she realised. Snape would never have revealed their secret. Had he warned Draco about this?

She realised it didn't matter as the older man stroked one long, pale finger down her cheek, almost like a caress. She shivered in disgust but couldn't do anything about it with her hands bound so tightly.

"You've been a very bad girl," he hissed against her face in a hoarse whisper. She could feel and smell his hot breath against her cheek and her stomach rolled. Tilting her head back she spat at him, watching with a brief flash of satisfaction as his expression turned furious.

"Why you little-"

Hermione's head snapped to the side as he backhanded her smartly. She tasted blood and realised his signet ring had split her lip.

"Let me subdue her-" Bellatrix offered eagerly, moving forwards with her wand raised. Hermione had barely recovered form being hit when she found herself on the end of the Cruciatus Curse.

_Oh…dear…god…_

Harry hadn't been exaggerating when he'd described the feeling of the torture curse to her one late evening in the common room. She felt like her body was on fire as her muscles clenched in crippling agony and her limbs flailed. She tasted more blood and knew she'd bitten down onto her tongue. It seemed to last forever, and she was only distantly aware of a high-pitched, haunting sound that could only have been her own screams echoing off the vaulted ceiling. She kept waiting for it to be over, chanting '_just one more second, you can do this' _in her head_, _but it just kept going.

After an age, the spell was finally cancelled and she slowly regained her senses. She had wound up sprawled on the cold stone floor, shivering and whimpering softly. The bindings on her hands had disappeared but she was frozen stiff with shock and couldn't move them anyway. In the background she could hear Ron's muffled yelling. A shiny black shoe appeared in her vision. Lucius Malfoy's expensive boot pressed down on her wrist, crushing it into the ground as he grabbed her hair and lifted her head again.

"Careful, Bella," he warned sharply, "if you go too far, she'll be useless to us."

Bellatrix grumbled her reluctant agreement, though she was out of sight now. All Hermione could see was a curtain of white blond hair and silvery eyes. Those eyes bore into her, as the tip of his wand pressed hard into her cheek.

"Are you ready to tell me what you know, my dear?" he whispered as though he were speaking to a lover. Hermione trembled, the wand only pressing more painfully against her cheek. She could barely hold herself upright after Bellatrix's torture. Fighting back or resisting was definitely not a possibility right now, and she whined in defeat as her struggling body failed her.

"Good girl," Lucius purred. Then he twisted his wand and looked directly into her eyes and barked, "_Legilimens!_"

Hermione let out a strangled gasp as Malfoy forced his way into her mind, stunned that he knew how. It was a rare skill. She had picked up a few tricks about how to protect her memories when she had researched Occlumency in their fifth year to try and help Harry. But it was no use. She was weak from the torture Bellatrix had inflicted and he was brutal in his approach. Her walls crumbled and then he was inside her head, his spirit dark and insidious as it entwined with hers. She wanted to be sick.

_"__Show me everything…" _Lucius's disembodied voice scraped over her nerves, echoing through her mind. Hermione tried so hard to repress the memories, to push them down. But his mind grasped hers in a vice, sifting through her head like it was an open book. He seemed to be hunting for something. Prompting her with an image of Draco, he grasped the closest thought and proceeded to flick through short moments of her relationship with the younger Malfoy. Some were a bit indistinct or blurry, like when she'd fallen from the thestral. Others were clearer. After a while he grasped onto one particular night, sifting through it like a movie on slow motion. She knew why it had stood out in her mind; it was the first time she'd gone to sleep with the certain knowledge that she was falling in love…

_Hermione and Draco were lying in bed together in their little attic room. A blanket was draped negligently over them where it had fallen at a crooked angle. Their naked bodies were intertwined so tightly she wasn't sure where he ended and she began. Her head was resting on his chest, calmed by the steady rising and falling underneath her cheek as he breathed. She was feeling heavy and a bit muddled from the orgasm he had managed to draw from her far too quickly for someone so inexperienced. They'd now had sex several times over the last few days, enough for them both to learn the basics, but Draco had surprised her as usual. He was so damn__** focused**__ and the things he whispered between her thighs and murmured against her centre were positively filthy. He made her go crazy. Peering up at him, she noticed the smug smirk on his lips and she smacked his shoulder._

_ "__Ow, what was that for?"_

_ "__Being insufferable," she informed him before burying her face against him once more. Draco chuckled._

_ "__You know, you could just say thank you, Draco!"_

_"__Thank you, Draco," she replied mockingly, her voice a sarcastic drawl similar to his._

_ "__You're most welcome."_

_ "__Hmph."_

_She felt rather than saw his lips stretch into an amused grin as he placed a gentle kiss against her curls, which were probably spread haphazardly all over his face by now._

_ "__I didn't realise you'd be such a grump in bed," he commented lightly._

_ "__Well if you're going to act so damned smug every time, then you'd better get used to it," she warned with a pout. Draco laughed again, pulling her tighter against him. He ran his hand up and down her spine soothingly._

_ "__You were…__**so**__ amazing. I don't know if I'm supposed to say that, but it's true..." his voice was strangled and heavy with emotion. Hermione pressed a kiss to his sternum, before scattering a few more over his chest. She enjoyed feeling him shiver in response._

_ "__But you did all the work this time," she noted with a smile, peeking up at him and blushing._

_ "__I was inspired," he drawled, twitching his eyebrows up suggestively, "I can't get enough of how you feel when you cum…"_

_Hermione blushed, hiding her face under the sheet with an embarrassed snort. Draco dived down after her, running his fingers over her until she guffawed and tried to stop him. This led to them both wrestling playfully, laughing until they almost couldn't breathe. Finally Draco got the upper hand, crawling inelegantly on top of her. He held her down gently, sighing and kissing a pattern down her neck and over her collarbone._

_ "__You're so beautiful, Hermione…" he murmured._

But before the memory could progress, Lucius withdrew from her mind abruptly, leaving her feeling dizzy and disoriented. Hermione wasn't sure how much he'd seen. She knew that legilimency could appear in different forms to either the spell caster or the recipient. She only hoped he hadn't witnessed what had happened next. Draco was a passionate lover and the thought that his own father had watched it all unfold was nauseating.

"Well, well, well…" the older wizard's voice drawled as his lips brushed her ear lobe, "it seems we have a little problem, don't we?"

"Lucius? What did you see?" Bellatrix demanded.

He leaned back from her and his eyes flickered over to the two other occupants of the room. The other death eaters were probably staying guard over Harry and Ron if they had started causing a fuss when they heard her screaming. Hermione's gaze darted pleadingly to Narcissa Malfoy, who stood blandly next to the fireplace. She was Draco's mother. Surely there must be _some _good in her. But the austere woman looked back at her with almost no hint of humanity, her nose turned up coldly and her expression almost bored. Bellatrix was grilling her sister's husband about what he'd seen, particularly regarding the sword of Gryffindor. With a choked sigh of relief, Hermione noted that he hadn't gone digging beyond her thoughts of Draco. He hadn't learned anything about horcruxes or their mission.

"Who cares about some stupid sword?" Lucius spat at the other deranged witch as he grabbed Hermione's chin in his hand, squeezing so hard she felt her jaw crack unpleasantly, "there's something far worse the little mudblood is concealing."

Hermione struggled in vain to push away from him, her body still quivering from the prolonged Cruciatus she'd been forced to endure. But Lucius only tightened his grip.

"Well what is it?" Bellatrix asked angrily.

"She killed Draco," he announced, his voice as cold as ice, "That night when he disappeared. She's the reason he's dead, and why we couldn't track him down."

Hermione's eyes widened and it felt like her heart actually stopped for a moment. Bellatrix moved over to her sister's side, as though to comfort her, though neither of them looked remotely shaken by the news. Hermione sucked in a rasping breath, her throat gargling from the steady trickle of blood she was trying not to choke on. What was he doing? Why was he lying about what he saw?

"N…no!" she spluttered hoarsely, "No I-"

_ "__Quiet!" _he shouted, backhanding her again. Then he grabbed onto the neckline of her shirt and tugged her in close. He lowered his voice to a dangerous whisper that only she could hear.

"You really think I'm going to let the Dark Lord learn of Draco's treachery, you stupid girl? I'll kill you, just like I killed Shacklebolt."

Hermione blinked, sobbing in terror as he pressed his wand to her neck. That certainly explained a lot, like why the auror turned death eater spy had disappeared and nobody in the Order had seen him in weeks. According to McGonagall he'd just vanished one day. Now she knew he was dead. Lucius had murdered him to prevent Voldemort discovering that the Malfoys weren't all completely loyal after all. She could only imagine how the snake-faced maniac would punish Draco's parents if he found out. So Lucius had cut the story off by disposing of the one person he knew who had seen them together. And that meant he needed to dispose of _her _too.

"Shouldn't you keep her alive so that the Dark Lord can question her?" Narcissa asked in a detached tone on the other side of the room. For a mother who had just learned that her son was supposedly dead, she was remarkably unaffected.

"She killed my only heir," Lucius informed the two witches in the room with them, "she doesn't deserve to live."

And with that she found herself writhing in pain again as the Cruciatus curse once more wracked through her body. Lucius was maybe not as skilled with the curse as his sister in law, or not as deranged enough to really drive it home, but it still bloody hurt.

"Please…please no…" Hermione screamed as her body twisted and bent out of shape as she tried to contain the horrible agony. When he released the spell this time, his stare was fixed on her as she panted on his drawing room floor. She scrambled to sit up but her arms were too weak to co-operate as she felt more blood gushing from her nose. Lucius's eyes were unfeeling and cruel as he kicked her over onto her back with his foot. A vein in his temple twitched grotesquely as he contemplated her, before pointing his wand right at her chest.

"This is for my son," he told her in a flat voice and Hermione knew it was over. She was about to be killed in the middle of Malfoy Manor, her blood slowly soaking into the centuries old carpets. Her luck had run out at last. Now, in a horrible twist of fate, it was Draco's father who would strike the final blow. Her thoughts turned to the boy who had become her lover and she sobbed, hoping he would be happy wherever he was. Then Lucius's lips began to form the terrible spell…

"_Avada-_"

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

With a sense of almost numbness, Hermione watched as the older Malfoy's wand flew out of his hand. She recognised the voice as Harry's, shouting his signature spell with urgent fury. She blinked up at the high vaulted ceiling above her.

She wasn't dead.

Voices swam in and out around her, a clattering jumble of sounds combined with the heat of spells. She couldn't move. Couldn't look up and see what was happening, it was like she was shell-shocked. Then she noticed a pair of concerned eyes and a vivid tuft of orange hair and she registered that Ron was leaning over her. He was saying something but it took her a while to place the words.

"Hermione! Hermione!"

It was her name, spoken with more desperation and fear than she'd ever heard from Ron, as he began to scoop her into his gangly, strong arms. She could only just hear him over the ringing in her ears.

"We have to get the hell out of here!"

Hermione allowed him to place her on the floor, her knees buckling instantly. The only reason she didn't drop to the ground again was that he was holding her upright.

"Harry!" he called, and it was then that she noticed her other friend engaged in a fight with Bellatrix and Narcissa. Lucius was nowhere to be seen, but there was a fresh pile of debris on the other side of the room that looked like it had a body flung into it.

And fighting next to Harry, to her absolute shock, was Dobby the house elf. With a few snaps of his fingers the little creature had disarmed the two witches, turning to her with an excited grin.

"Dobby is protecting Hermninny Granger! Just like Master Draco wanted!" he called out happily. More than one occupant in the room stared at him in disbelief. Then Harry came to his senses, striding over to the two of them and tugging Dobby along with him.

"Get us out of here, Dobby!" he ordered and they all connected hands. Bellatrix shrieked in fury, drawing a dagger from her robes. As they spun away, she flung the weapon with all her might in their direction.

Hermione felt herself squeezed through a tunnel as she was transported far away. Her body shuddered as the magic pinched and prodded her. Her nose began to bleed again. She wondered vaguely whether apparating straight after being tortured was a really terrible idea. Not that they'd had any choice.

The four of them landed with a thud on a steep bank of sand. The smell of salt and the crashing of waves against the shore told her they had arrived at a beach. But she barely had time to appreciate this before she collapsed weakly against Ron, fighting off the urge to faint. He caught her just as Harry spun to face Dobby, who was stumbling a couple of steps away. The three of them caught their breath as they watched the elf. Hermione blinked rapidly, trying to focus her gaze on him just as Harry called out,

"Dobby? _Dobby?_"

Then the little house elf turned towards them and suddenly gave them a triumphant smile. He lifted his hands and showed them Bellatrix's dagger, spinning it around in his fingers as he toyed with it. Hermione let out a long breath of relief.

He was all right! He'd actually caught it! Thank Merlin.

Harry laughed and drew Dobby into an energetic hug, much to the elf's delight. Hermione gasped a bit as tears streamed down her cheeks, her whole body starting to shudder and convulse from the jarring transportation. She felt like her nerves were on fire. She felt Ron trying to steady her and he nervously called to the others. Soon Dobby's wrinkled face was peering down over hers as she slumped to the ground. She saw the blurry figure of Harry just behind his shoulder, looking worried.

"Dobby promised," the elf muttered as he touched one long, bony finger to her forehead.

"Is…is she okay?" Harry stammered as the small creature inspected her.

"Master Draco is making Dobby solemnly swear to protect his Herminny Granger… she is his important person."

Though her mind had become almost fuzzy with pain and her legs were cramping underneath her, she just managed to notice a shared look between her two friends, as though they were a bit stunned by the elf's declaration.

"Time to rest now, Herminy Granger!" Dobby murmured soothingly, almost like a lullaby. He moved his finger across to her temple and then there was a small pulse of magic. She felt her mind falling deeper and deeper until her thoughts and indeed her whole body relaxed into a long, dreamless sleep. The last thing she was aware of were Ron's arms scooping her up and the smell of the ocean breeze as Dobby's words reverberated across her senses.

"…_his important person…_"

…

…

…

**Well, you all knew the Malfoy Manor scene was coming. I also couldn't bring myself to let poor Dobby die. Please leave reviews! I like them very much.**


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**And I'm back. Got to tie up some different pathways this chapter ready to start the big final act. Enjoy! Hope this one isn't too dull.**

**As always, JKR is the original magician.**

…

**Chapter Seventeen**

**…**

There was a gentle spring breeze easing in through the curtains as Draco's head slumped against the back of the couch. The ceiling was blurry above him and he groaned as he felt a dull crick in his neck. He hadn't bothered to turn the lights on in the room. As the sun had set, he had just sat there, dozing in the growing darkness.

_Maybe I shouldn't have had so much to drink…_

Draco was currently enjoying his new favourite past time; drinking alone. He might still be young, but thanks to Lucius he had developed a fairly refined taste for fire whiskey at an early age. Now, living amongst muggles, he had switched to some kind of scotch and it was surprisingly smooth. It also gave him a great buzz.

"You're pathetic, Draco," he muttered to himself, his lips a bit numb from the copious liquor he'd imbued. As his mind sunk into a dream-like state, he closed his eyes. And there, waiting for him, was Hermione. He watched her leaning over a cauldron, a pencil stuck through her hair as she stirred carefully. Her nose was scrunched up in that adorable way that meant she was working out a problem.

"Hermi-oone-" he mumbled to himself, the word slurring a little. Why did her name have to have so many syllables?

As he sat there on that couch, smacking his lips and savouring the taste of scotch on his tongue, Draco screwed his eyes shut. He didn't _want _to think about Hermione. He had made his decision. It was pointless dwelling on where she was and what she was doing when he had chosen to go a separate path. It would only torment him. And yet every day he sunk deeper into his melancholic thoughts of her. It turned out that starting a new life in Italy hadn't worked out exactly like he'd planned it. Not when he was alone. Not when Hermione was off risking her life and doing Merlin knew what to try and save wizarding Britain.

_Damn she's so fucking brave._

Draco smiled crookedly and snorted up at the ceiling of his villa. She had always been brave - he'd known that even before he'd grown to like her! She'd slapped him right across the face in third year just for insulting that big oaf Hagrid. She might occasionally doubt herself or succumb to nervousness, but there was no denying that she had more courage than all those other stupid Gryffindors put together.

He could no longer resent her for leaving him and running after Potter. Not now. He'd had plenty of time to think these last few months. That's all he'd done, really. Aside from the occasional frivolous soiree with Blaise, all of which had felt forced and hollow. But his thoughts all circled back to one shockingly clear revelation.

That he would never love anyone like he did Hermione.

Despite Blaise's best attempts to introduce him to new and increasingly exotic women every time they met up, it all left a bitter taste in his mouth. With a groan, he rubbed his knuckles over his eyes. His hands were shaking as he clenched them into tight fists. The truth was, Draco was tortured by the ghost of Hermione's fingers on his skin. She was the first person, the first _woman, _to ever touch him. The memory haunted him. Now that he was alone again, his skin felt stretched and weak, like a brittle autumn leaf dragged by the wind. He craved that contact that had become so addictive to him in such a short space of time.

He hadn't dared to bring up such a topic with Blaise. The other boy wouldn't understand. He seemed to always be touching people, flirting and embracing women. There was no way Draco could explain to him how even the thought of any woman but Hermione touching him intimately made him feel wrong, unnatural.

And if she died in this grand war of hers, that would be it. Would he ever be able to love again? He supposed he could move on with his life in some form. Get married, have kids. But would his heart ever yearn for someone like it did for Hermione Granger? Would his body ever crave another's in the same way? He had a feeling the echo of her touch would reverberate through his life regardless of whether she lived or died. So he was doomed either way.

At the sound of a sharp rapping on his front door, Draco pushed these morbid thoughts away and got himself to his feet. He staggered over to the door, wondering when the floor of his villa had become so lopsided.

Blaise was standing on the other side, looking annoyingly cheerful and holding up a bottle of muggle wine. But when he saw Draco, his face dropped and he lowered the wine slowly.

"Merlin's saggy balls, Draco! I was going to suggest a nightcap but you look like you've probably had enough," the other boy quipped. Draco just grumbled, opening the door wider to reluctantly let him inside. He supposed it was nice to have his first real friend, besides the house elves of course. He wasn't used to someone else wanting to just spend time with him like this. Though given his current state, it was not altogether welcome this evening.

"Make yourself at home," Draco drawled, gesturing towards the living area before hiccoughing loudly. He flushed, staggering back towards the couch and collapsing onto it again. Distantly he heard Blaise muttering about sitting in the dark like a loner, and after a brief pause in which much fumbling took place, the lights snapped on all at once. Draco groaned and shielded his eyes, trying but failing to glare at Blaise from under his hand as the other boy smirked from his spot over at the light switch.

"I love muggle lighting," Blaise commented airily, swanning over to sit opposite him on the couch, "always brings out the red in your eyes!"

Draco could hardly argue with the other boy, given that right now his eyes were stinging from the sudden brightness and were most definitely blood shot.

"What do you want, Blaise?" he sneered instead, "Is this just a social call? Because if that's the case you can just sod off. I'm not in the mood."

Blaise levelled him with a sharp look as he sat opposite him.

"You're never in the mood."

"Then take the hint."

"So charming," the other boy commented, crossing one leg over the other and drumming his fingers elegantly on his knee, "and tell me, Draco, how exactly is this_ new life _working out for you? You've been here in Italy for… how long? three…four months?"

"Five," Draco corrected sullenly, staring blearily at his shoes.

"And is it everything you dreamed it would be?"

He sighed, closing his eyes and swallowing the uncomfortable lump in his throat.

"It's bloody fantastic," he replied in a flat voice.

"Still thinking about prissy little Granger every second of the day?"

Draco shrugged, releasing another hiccough.

"No," he muttered, "only every _other _second. That's an improvement, right?"

"Yeh, sure…" Blaise noted uncertainly, "and yet you insist on turning down all my offers to set you up with someone!"

"Oh please," Draco slurred, pointing an angry finger in the other boy's direction, "those girls you keep introducing me to are all so…so…er…"

"Beautiful? Classy? Rich?"

He scoffed, picking at a loose thread in the couch cushion he was sitting on.

"Maybe. But they're also all missing one very important thing."

"And what's that?"

"They're not Hermione."

The brunette wizard chuckled, rolling his eyes. He leaned forwards and withdrew a tiny vial from his pocket. It was filled with a light, pearly blue liquid. Draco recognised it instantly.

"A sober up potion? Really? You know, it took a lot of effort to get this drunk. Why spoil it?"

Blaise's expression had turned solemn.

"Because you're going to want to hear what I've got to tell you."

"I can hear just fine," he argued.

"Yes, but will you _understand?_"

Draco grunted belligerently, reaching forwards and snatching the vial.

"You're such a spoilsport," he muttered as he tossed back the potion in one go. It took effect quickly; jolting him back to his senses with a rush of thoughts and feelings the alcohol had managed to keep down to a dull haze. And with his sudden sobriety came a familiar pang in his chest; the very sensation he had been trying to avoid.

"Now what the hell was so bloody important?" he snapped, slamming the empty vial down onto the low coffee table between them.

Blaise took a deep, fortifying breath, leaning forwards and resting his elbows onto his knees.

"Well, it relates to a certain lady friend of yours…"

"Hermione?"

Draco's heart skipped. His new friend nodded, watching him with some concern.

"I wanted to see if you still… you know…if your feelings are still the same…"

"Of course they are!"

"Well I wasn't sure. I mean, _so_ much time has passed-"

"Blaise!" Draco interrupted impatiently, clenching his jaw angrily as he tried not to leap from his seat, "cut to the chase! What do you know about her?"

"Well the thing is… I got a message from Greg. He was using the fireplace in the Slytherin common room. Apparently certain members of our house have been given special privileges this year."

"Wait…Goyle?"

"The one and only."

"_And?_"

Draco tapped his foot impatiently, annoyed at Blaise's hesitance.

"_And_ he says that some serious shit is going down at Hogwarts."

"What's that got to do with Hermione?" he pressed.

"He says she's there. With Potter. According to Greg, the castle's been sealed off and You-Know-Who has gathered all his followers outside."

"And Hermione is _there?_" he repeated dumbly, "inside the castle?"

"Yep. Greg reckons there's gonna be some kind of huge battle. He says the whole Order of the Phoenix turned up out of the blue."

"_Shit,_" Draco breathed, dropping his head into his hands as he felt his pulse start to speed up. He took in a long shaky breath.

"Is he sure?"

"Yep. He says that old bitch McGonagall has the whole place locked down tight with spells. There's no way to get in or out. Even our conversation was cut off when the fireplace was suddenly blocked. "

"Then how do you know Hermione's there?"

"Well that's easy… I asked."

"Really?"

Blaise huffed out a long breath, leaning back on his seat of the couch.

"I figured you'd freak out if I didn't at least mention her. I had to grill him a bit, but Greg eventually told me she was running around the halls with that ginger moron last he saw her. Thanks to you, he probably thinks I fancy her now or something."

Draco bolted upright, lifting himself from the couch and moving to the window. He looked out on the harbour as it twinkled under the light of the moon. His thoughts were spinning wildly in circles as he tried to absorb what he'd heard. There was really only one conclusion.

This was it.

If the Order had gathered and the Dark Lord was there too, laying siege to the castle, then it looked like this war was reaching its peak, whether for better or worse. And Hermione was there, right in the thick of it. They must have gone to Hogwarts for some significant reason, he thought. Surely it wasn't just for sanctuary. Given that the place was crawling with death eaters they would have had to be certain that they were infiltrating the place for something bloody important.

With a wave of anxiety, Draco grabbed onto the windowsill, his knuckles turning white. If Hermione and her two friends had gone there for some kind of special purpose then that meant they would probably put up a fight. There would be a battle, and she would be in danger. Draco imagined for a second what he would do if something happened to her. He was barely coping now as it was, and at least at the moment he _knew _she was alive and well. If she were hurt or, Merlin forbid, killed…

That's what it boiled down to really, he thought. Draco closed his eyes and remembered the words of Aberforth and Snape and hell, even Blaise! They'd all told him the same thing. That he couldn't run from his fear. And they were right. He'd known it for months but had been too stubborn and too scared to admit it. Lucius had ruined his life. But that wasn't going to go away just because he'd left. And whether he'd planned it or not, Draco had fallen in love with Hermione Granger and _she _made him want to live. She made him want to be a better person. So why was he lounging around here nursing his precious freedom when he had nothing to live _for. _Hermione was driven by a purpose. Something pure and right. She wanted to save their world from the darkness that had threatened her and so many others. And Draco…

_I've been such a stupid fool!_

Draco wanted to live in a world where the two of them could be together. Where people saw Hermione the way he did; not as just a muggleborn but as a truly amazing, powerful witch. If by some miracle they won this war now without him and he returned to Britain to find her and try to woo her again, would he be worthy of her? Did he have any right to think of her as _his _when he had turned his back on her when she was fighting for her very right to live in their world and wield her magic?

A great swell of shame washed over him and Draco realised that he _didn't _deserve her. He also knew that if he didn't face up to Lucius once and for all then he would always be tormented by the memory of his father's cruelty. At the end of the day, staying here and doing nothing would only lead to him being a lesser person; a boy too frightened to stand up for the woman he loved, and too intimidated to confront the ghosts of his past. He'd be nothing.

"So what are you going to do?" Blaise prompted from behind him. He'd almost forgotten that the other boy was in the room; he'd been so lost in his thoughts.

"I have to go back," he croaked, spinning around towards the room again and registering the shock on Blaise's face.

"Wha…really?"

"Yes, I need to get my things," he made for the bedroom on the left, but Blaise stopped him with a worried expression.

"Draco, are you sure? It sounds like some serious shit is gonna happen."

"I need to be there," he declared quietly, as though half to himself. He noticed his voice came out even more confidently than he was expecting and he felt his choice settle into a firm resolve.

"Are you going for _her?_" Blaise questioned curiously. But he shook his head, tilting it to one side thoughtfully.

"I'm going for _me,_" he told him meaningfully, "So I can finally be the kind of person who deserves her."

Brushing past Blaise, he raced into the bedroom to throw on a jacket and grab one or two items he thought he might need, including the galleon he had treasured in his possession for months now.

"How are you even going to get there?" Blaise yelled out to him from the other room, making him pause, "the floo network is in chaos and apparating into the castle will be impossible, if you can even get that far."

Draco re-emerged into the living area, tugging on each of his trainers and socks while hopping from one foot to the other.

"I think I might have a solution for that," he said excitedly, adrenalin starting to course through his body.

"Which is?"

"Let's just say I'm friends with a fairly unconventional house elf."

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

Once Draco was ready, he looked around the villa that had become his home these last few months. Even though it was luxurious, it was odd how he felt like he belonged here far less than that dirty little attic above Aberforth's pub. He didn't even experience a twinge of sadness at the thought of leaving. And a big part of his heart was already pounding in anticipation at the possibility that he might see Hermione again.

"So that's it then…" Blaise began, sidling closer to him and looking quite solemn compared to his normal light-hearted mien, "you know, you're heading into a battle."

"I know."

"And Lucius will probably be there."

"I'm counting on it."

Blaise frowned at him.

"Why the sudden change of heart?"

Draco chuckled, withdrawing his wand from his pocket.

"Actually, it's not so much a change of heart as it is me finally growing some balls and fighting for what I want."

"Well good luck, I hope you get what you're after."

Draco approached his new friend, clasping his hand and slapping him on the shoulder.

"Thanks for everything, Blaise. For giving me a place to live and keeping me relatively sane."

"Thank _you_ for the entertainment," Blaise replied cheekily, "which I'm sure will only get even more fascinating once you meet up with your new best friends Potty and Weasel."

"Don't count on it," he warned sternly, before they both chuckled. Eventually they sobered and together shuffled their feet, looking at the ground awkwardly.

"Stay safe, Draco. Be a Slytherin."

"I will."

And without further ado, Blaise watched him take a step back and lift his chin up high. Draco looked proud and self-assured, more so than he had ever appeared before. Not the kind of pride born of arrogance or superiority, but a genuine feeling of rightness in himself. Then he spoke clearly into the night;

"Dobby!"

…

…

…

Aberforth marched back and forth across the front of his sister's painting. He was muttering to himself as he paced, cursing the whole wizarding world and everybody in it for the massive inconvenience of waging a damn war right on the front doorstep of his little pub. Ariana watched him calmly, her face as serene as always.

The boy was late.

Half the bloody country had stampeded through here over the last few hours; the hidden passageway to Hogwarts was clearly the worst kept secret in Britain. Aberforth had given up protesting or even grumbling at the people who snuck across his threshold. Everything was coming to a head now, so he may as well wait and see what happened. As much as he had resented his brother, Albus sure had been an inspiration to his followers. They were all truly devoted to their cause, and even he couldn't deny that they were actually trying to make their world a better place.

And yet here he was, twiddling his thumbs and wondering where the bloody hell Draco Malfoy was. It's not like he was in a rush to get inside the castle or anything, in fact he'd been more than happy to stay right where he was. But he also knew that the Order and the DA needed all the help they could get. They were vastly outnumbered and half of them were underage or seriously inexperienced.

About two minutes ago, Dobby the house elf had announced that the Malfoy boy was calling for him. He might have been 'freed', but his ties to his old household still lingered. It was an ancient magic, after all. The little elf had been hanging around testing his patience all evening, helping him to smuggle witches and wizards off all kinds into Hogwarts via the Room of Requirement. His connection to the school he served had been invaluable, giving him more access than a normal resident of the castle. Now he had disappeared, tracking down Malfoy somewhere in the southern regions of Italy in response to his summons. Aberforth had a feeling he knew why the young Slytherin boy had called him. And he was anticipating his arrival soon.

During those few strange weeks after the two of them had staggered through his front door, he'd seen the way the boy had looked at the Granger girl, the way they'd acted around each other. And, of course, Malfoy's visible heartache after she'd left. He knew it would only be a matter of time before the kid figured things out.

Aberforth ceased his pacing abruptly when the sound of a _crack _rang out through the basement room. Staggering a bit in response to the jolt of side-along apparition, Malfoy appeared in the room as expected.

"Well it's about time," the older wizard growled, clapping the boy on one shoulder.

"Aberforth!" he exclaimed, his lips stretching into a nervous grin. The smile faltered a bit as he saw how impatient the barkeep was by this point, "you don't look all that surprised to see me."

"I'm not. I've been waiting for ye."

"You…you _knew_ I'd come?"

Aberforth snorted dryly, rolling his eyes.

"Spare me yer stammering, boy! Yer lass is in danger. I knew you'd wake up and figure out where yer meant to be."

"And where is that, exactly?" Draco asked warily.

"By her side, of course. Honestly, I though ye'd worked that out by now."

"I _have_!"

"Then what are we still yapping for? We've got a battle to join."

Draco blinked a bit, stunned at his brusque manner, but eventually nodded. Then, before they could move towards Ariana's portrait, Aberforth noticed the house elf tugging on the boy's trousers to get his attention.

"Master Draco!" the elf squeaked, "is you going to find your Herminy Granger?"

"Yes, Dobby. It's _my _turn to protect her now."

Aberforth let out a frustrated sigh, watching helplessly as the elf's eyes grew round and watery. He had a bad feeling he knew what the little creature was going to say, although to be fair Malfoy couldn't have foreseen this or known about it.

"But…but…" he blubbered, wringing his bony fingers together, "D…Dobby failed his task, Master Draco!"

"What do you mean?" the boy asked with a frown.

"Master is asking Dobby to keep watch over his witch and protect her. Dobby was willing to give his life if it meant he could…"

Malfoy held up a hand to stem the explanation, his face going a bit pale. But he still looked down at the elf with a kindly expression.

"What do you mean you failed, Dobby? What happened?"

The elf let out a few small squeaks as he tugged anxiously on the bottom of his woolly jumper. His mouth was pursed tight as though he didn't want to spill the awful truth, but he looked just about ready to burst at the seams.

"Tell him," Aberforth encouraged, "It wasn't yer fault, elf. And he should know."

"Know what?" Malfoy pressed urgently. Aberforth gave the elf a little wave of his hand to prompt him and he nodded solemnly, his milky eyes blinking up dolefully as he took in a deep breath.

"Harry Potter and his friends were captured by those no-good snatchies and taken to…to…" he looked around suspiciously at the walls, his eyes wary. Eventually he lowered his voice and whispered, "the _Manor_."

He saw the boy swallow, turning white as a sheet.

"What?" he repeated dumbly, his expression horrified. The elf continued in a rush,

"Dobby sensed they were there, but he couldn't get through the wards. Dark things were floating all around the house. And Dobby is not getting inside easily."

Malfoy's eyes darted frantically between the elf telling his story and Aberforth himself, who just grimaced and nodded supportively, letting the small creature explain what had happened.

"Well…wha…is she… okay? Is Hermione all right?"

"Master's witch is very strong and very brave! Dobby is arriving just in time. Harry Potter and his Weasley were in the basement, but Dobby heard terrible things upstairs…"

"What terrible things?" Malfoy asked, his voice sounding a bit panicked now. The elf hesitated but then ploughed ahead.

"Nasty crazy woman and…and… Dobby's former…m…master were doing dark things with their wands. Scary things."

"Aberforth, please-" Malfoy begged, turning to him for more information that the elf was not capable of providing.

"They tortured her," he grunted in reply, not wanting to elaborate too much, but he supposed the boy had a right to know, "that's all I know, and even that I had to piece together from the elf's ramblings. But Dobby here got her out alive eventually."

"Really? She got out?"

"Yes, sir! Dobby found it hard to follow his Master's witch when she disappeared into the dark place, but I is always remembering my promise!"

Aberforth saw the boy place a hand against his heart as if in relief as he let out a breath.

"Thank Merlin! How long ago was this?"

"About a week. " he explained, nodding his head meaningfully towards the elf, who was looking mighty upset. Malfoy blinked and picked up on his cue quickly. He knelt down in front of the elf and patted him fondly on the head.

"It's not your fault she was hurt, Dobby. You got in there as fast as you could and it sounds like you saved her life."

"Really, Master Draco?"

"Of course. And _thank you _for fulfilling your promise."

Dobby beamed up at the boy, bouncing nimbly up and down on the balls of his feet.

"Dobby is honoured to serve Master Draco, sir!"

"Well, I'm honoured to be served _by _you!"

"Alright, enough sentiment. We have to go," Aberforth announced, feeling that it was about time they made their way into the castle. He ushered the two other occupants of the room towards the portrait of his sister. Ariana smiled placidly down at them and moved to open the hidden door behind her frame. Dobby jumped inside with an agile hop and a skip. Aberforth was about to follow when he paused. Looking back, he noticed the extremely tortured look on the Malfoy boy's face. His skin was pallid and his brows were furrowed together anxiously. The old barkeep halted abruptly and shot the younger wizard a sharp look.

"What's botherin' ye?" he barked in a low voice, stopping him with one arm across the chest.

"Sorry?"

"Ye look like yer about to keel over, boy! What's on yer mind?"

Malfoy shuffled his feet uncomfortably, chewing nervously on his lip.

"I…she…"

"Clock's ticking. Spit it out!"

The boy flushed red, before blurting it out all at once.

"How can I face Hermione knowing that it was _my _family who hurt her, tortured her? My father…"

"Because ye love her," Aberforth informed him gruffly, wincing at the sappy drivel that was coming out of his mouth but powering on nonetheless, "and because yer lass is not the type to hold unreasonable grudges."

Malfoy nodded slowly, accepting his words and seeming to pull himself together, straightening his shoulders and lifting his chin.

"Right," he muttered, "that's right!"

"It's also a moot point in the scheme of things," the older wizard reminded him unsympathetically a moment later, "we're running straight into a bloody war here. You're gonna have to grow a stronger stomach than that!"

The blond Slytherin stared up at him a bit stunned at the rather grim warning. He probably should have given the boy some kind of comfort, but there was no time and he wasn't really good at boosting morale or giving encouragement anyway. It wasn't his style. Before Malfoy could say anything, the pesky little house elf popped his head back in through the space behind the painting.

"Come on! Master Draco is running late! And Dobby is needing to get back to Harry Potter!"

The two of them groaned and followed the elf at a more hurried pace, both of them wondering what the bloody hell was waiting for them at the other end of the passageway.

…

…

…

The corridors of Hogwarts were thick with spells and charms, the foundations of the castle practically vibrating with magic. The professors had sealed the place up tight, protecting them with an impressive show of force.

As Hermione jogged along the familiar hallways, she felt a wave of nostalgia almost overwhelm her. She would spot a particular step or painting and it would bring back so many powerful memories that she wanted to just pause and take it all in. Earlier she had helped Madame Pomfrey and Sprout fetch some Mandrakes from the healing wing to use as another layer of defence. Walking past those distinctive hospital beds with their crisp folded sheets and the faint tang of potions in the air, she had thought of Draco. Hermione remembered soothing him to sleep, as he lay there in pain that bizarre night during their sixth year. That night had been one of the first times in his life that someone had ever really touched him like that. With tenderness and care. He had been so vulnerable; the emotion on his face had been raw and stripped of any hubris or disdain.

Hermione was tugged back to reality as Ron skidded to a halt around a corner and he thrust an arm out to stop her.

"There it is," he murmured, pointing at Moaning Murtle's bathroom and looking pained but also resigned to the fact that they would have to see the rather melodramatic ghost once more.

"Are you sure you know the password?" she whispered. The corridor here was empty and filled with an eerie echo of their voices. But in the distance there was a flurry of movement and yelling as the inhabitants of the castle and the newly arrived Order prepared for battle.

"Yes," he replied, "I think so. I remember when Harry said it, anyway, and it can't hurt to try and copy him, even if it was just hissing."

"Alright," she nodded in agreement, thinking again that it was a stroke of pure genius to go and hunt down some spare basilisk fangs in the Chamber of Secrets. Then they would have the power to destroy horcruxes for good. The two of them hurried forwards, dodging puddles of water spilling out from under the door.

Hermione's heart hadn't stopped pounding since they arrived at Hogwarts a few hours earlier. She was exhausted but running on pure adrenalin now. She only hoped Harry wouldn't do anything stupid or noble while they were separated. With any luck Luna would talk some sense into him, which was a strange thought in itself.

As they approached the bathroom door, Ron waved her inside as he held it open. She moved to jump over a puddle and found herself once more in Moaning Myrtle's domain.

And yet…

_Was that…_

As Ron entered the bathroom behind her and pulled the door shut, she could have sworn she saw a flash of blond hair racing down the other end of the corridor in the direction of the Great Hall.

A flash of familiar white blond hair.

Surely not.

Hermione shook her head, pushing the thought aside. Her weary eyes must have been playing tricks on her. Draco was far away somewhere sunning himself in a villa in Tuscany, right? There was simply no way he was going to turn up here when his father was one of the Death Eaters waiting outside the boundaries to slaughter them all like cattle.

Maybe she was going crazy. Either way, she needed to focus. The three of them had a job to do. And thinking about Draco wasn't going to help her anymore.

They were fighting for their lives now.

And she was going to make damn sure that they won.

…

…

…

**And now they're all at Hogwarts ready for some final showdown. Reunion coming up next I promise. How do you think this will all unfold? Please review!**


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Back with quite a long chapter this time. So much to get through! I hope you enjoy this one – I quite liked it myself! As always, JKR is the true witch. Onwards!**

**…**

**…**

**Chapter Eighteen**

**…**

Draco froze as he reached the doors of the Great Hall; aware that about a hundred pairs of eyes were staring at him. He swallowed, sidling a bit closer to Aberforth as the two of them strolled into the familiar space, the four long dining tables gone. Instead, the space was filled by a flurry of activity as the students, professors and Order members prepared for battle. There were charms being used to re-enforce the walls of their stronghold, traps being laid out and even the ghosts were barking commands to the older students, fortifying the place as they floated around with more urgency than he'd ever seen before.

"Aberforth!"

Draco's eyes darted to the figure waving madly and approaching them at a run.

"Oh boy-" he muttered under his breath, his jaw clenching warily as Neville Longbottom skidded to a stop in front of the grizzly barkeep.

"Bloody brilliant work getting everyone in," the Gryffindor commented enthusiastically, and Draco's gaze widened at the new and unexpected nature of confidence the other boy had. He was positively buzzing with energy and determination. It was like looking at a stranger. Surely this was not the same Longbottom he remembered.

"My pub's not a bloody highway for strays, boy," Aberforth growled in response, trying to appear as abrasive as usual, even though his expression had softened somewhat upon seeing the student before him.

"Could have fooled me," Longbottom joked, his eyes sliding past the older wizard's shoulder and directly onto Draco, "What are _you_ doing here, Malfoy?"

"None of your business," he drawled in return with his typical sneer.

"Look, if you're just here to cause trouble-"

But whatever suspicion the boy was about to voice was drowned out when a few more figures approached them. He recognised some from school, such as that prat Seamus and his friend Dean from seventh year. Others were less familiar, like a woman with shockingly pink hair the colour of bubble gum.

"Malfoy? What the fuck?"

"Where the bloody hell did he come from?"

"You don't belong here! Piss off!"

"Go back to snivelling behind your father's robes!"

A small crowd had gathered, pausing what they were doing to form some kind of mob around him. Not for the first time, he wished he didn't have such a bloody distinctive appearance, but unfortunately his white blond hair definitely stood out in a crowd. Aberfroth shot him a sideways glance, looking almost sympathetic, but even his deep growl couldn't be heard over the noise of those who'd come over to confront him. He was just "that slimy Malfoy brat" as someone shouted, drawing the attention of everyone in the hall who hadn't already noticed him.

Just when he was starting to lose his cool façade and succumb to the angry pink flush spreading up the back of his neck, a single stern voice pierced the hall.

"Don't you all have more important things to do?"

The firm, pinched countenance of Minerva McGonagall appeared, striding through the crowd of students and Order members. Everyone parted naturally before her, accepting her authority without question. Even Aberforth moved away to join up with some other wizards from the Order he clearly knew. The only one who stuck around was that rat Seamus.

"He's a Death Eater ma'm!"

"That will do, Mr Finnegan."

"But Professor-"

"I said _enough. _I can vouch for Mr Malfoy. He is no more a Death Eater than I am. And he will be a valuable asset to us in the coming hours. A little gratitude wouldn't go astray."

Seamus stomped away, muttering under his breath as the rest of the crowd dispersed too. Draco breathed a small, secret smile of relief. It was amazing really that McGonagall could command those around her with such ease. He supposed she had always been one of his favourite teachers; even if he'd been loathe to ever admitting it at the time.

Once the crowd had eased away, the only student left by the Professor's side was Neville Longbottom. The once round-faced boy now loomed tall with his gaunt, battle scarred face, almost as tall as Draco. The other wizard was looking at him with open curiosity, but surprisingly no malice.

"So…er…you're one of us now, ey Malfoy?"

"Apparently," he murmured dryly, earning a snort from Longbottom.

"You don't sound convinced."

Draco brushed the hair back off his forehead self-consciously.

"Part of me still thinks you're all mad."

"Oh we are," Longbottom joked, grinning cheekily.

"Yes, yes…" McGonagall interrupted curtly, waving her hand dismissively, "Nevertheless it is good to see you, Mr Malfoy. We need all the help we can get. Though I confess I'm a little surprised you've come."

"So am I."

The older witch's lip twitched in what was almost a smile.

"Hermione told me you saved her life. She seems to believe the best of you and I trust her judgment. I hope you don't make us all regret her faith in you."

Draco sobered, taking a shaky breath at the mention of his witch.

"I won't."

"Wait… Hermione? As in _the _Hermione?" Longbottom questioned with undisguised interest.

"The very same," McGonagall replied sharply before noticing something in the distance that wasn't to her liking, "Ms Patil, bring that over this way please!"

She made to move in the same direction, before pausing and fixing Draco with a hard stare.

"Try not to get into any mischief Mr Malfoy."

"I can't make any promises," he grumbled as the witch strode off in the directions of the Patil twins, who were carrying armfuls of crystal balls. There was a slightly awkward pause as Draco stared sullenly at the ground, shuffling his feet restlessly. He could practically feel Longbottom watching him avidly for a while before he snapped.

"_What?_"

"Nothing! Don't get all jittery."

"I'm not jittery," he hissed through his teeth.

"So what happened with Hermione?"

"Pardon?"

Longbottom shrugged casually, his face kindly and open.

"Professor McGonagall said you saved her life. That's pretty impressive."

"I don't…I'm not… look, do you know where she is?

"McGonagall?"

"No, _Hermione!_" he took a deep breath to try and smother his impatience. The other boy looked at him thoughtfully, as though trying to figure him out.

"Dunno really. I think she's with Ron. Luna was just saying a moment ago that she saw them running somewhere..."

"Where?" he asked excitedly. Longbottom paused before shouting for that weird Lovegood girl to join them. She skipped up towards them, a far away look in her eyes.

"Oh hello Draco," she greeted in a singsong voice.

"Uh hi," he answered a bit dubiously.

"Malfoy here wants to know where Hermione went," Neville explained as the girl swayed gently from side to side, her long yellow hair dancing around her shoulders.

"Oh how lovely. I didn't know you were sweet on her," Lovegood crooned, making Draco's pinks turn pink as the other boy stared between them curiously, "I guess all that teasing and prejudice these last seven years was just a mask concealing your deeper feelings. I can see it fluttering all around you now though! It's pink and yellow, like a sunrise."

Longbottom snorted while Draco blinked in confusion.

"Huh?"

"Come on, Luna. No time for match-making now," the Gryffindor boy reminded her kindly, "Where did you see Hermione going?"

Draco shot the boy a grateful half smile, forcing himself to look as friendly as possible. He didn't want anyone to kick him out or tell him to leave again. That meant he had to be on his best behaviour. And the former potions catastrophe seemed to have grown some balls this last year or so. He was reluctantly impressed.

"They're trying to find the lost diadem of Ravenclaw," she told him in her most melodic tone.

"The what?" he asked dumbly.

"Don't ask," Longbottom muttered with a wry smile.

"Her and Ronald were heading up to the Seventh Floor last I saw them, carrying a big pile of snake fangs with them. Maybe they're hunting Gufferwamps."

"Again, don't ask," Longbottom chimed in.

Draco nodded, not sure what the fangs signified. But the other detail was much more important.

"The seventh floor," he repeated slowly, blinking as his mind raced, "the room of requirement!"

"Maybe," Longbottom agreed, already becoming distracted by other things going on around them as he saw the Weasley twins planting fireworks around the edges of the hall.

Draco groaned. He had just come all the way down from the seventh floor, and now Hermione was back up there? He figured he'd better hurry up before he lost her again. But before he could act, a terrible booming noise echoed across the castle like an explosion, making the stone walls shudder around them. Everyone froze, stopping what they were doing as they gazed fearfully towards their friends. Draco felt a prickle of dark magic scrape over his nerves and he shivered in response. Then McGonagall's voice spoke out, crisp and clear in the silence that had followed the sound.

"The wards have been breached. Everyone to your stations immediately. Be brave. Protect the school."

A burst of movement met her words as students, professors and Order members raced into position whether there in the Great Hall or outside. Draco met Longbottom's eye and the two grimaced meaningfully.

"You'd better get going. I hope you find Hermione," the other boy told him and Draco felt unexpectedly thankful for his help.

"Good luck, Neville," he replied without even a hint of irony or sarcasm. The other boy blinked a bit in stunned surprise, but then nodded with a cheeky smile.

"Thanks, mate! Catch ya later!"

And with that the Gryffindor charged off, taking Lovegood by the hand and leading her towards the doors that would lead up to one of the towers. Draco shook his head and moved towards the other doors near the opposite end of the Great Hall. He encountered Aberforth standing guard near a group of students along with Professor Flitwick, who were all forming a defensive circle even as the sounds of spell fire and falling rubble began to reverberate through the closed and fortified entrance doors. The old barkeep gave him a reassuring nod.

"Find yer lass, but stay outta trouble, ye hear? They're coming."

Draco was about to shout back a reply but before he could there was another deep booming bang. The entrance doors shook on their hinges underneath a great force, the wood splintering. The second bang saw them buckle and fracture. On the third hit they burst inwards. With a jolt of fear Draco watched as Death Eaters streamed into the hall. They starting firing spells left, right and centre. He couldn't pick any faces out of the crowd; they were all wearing their masks. The air grew hot with magic, and twice Draco had to duck to avoid a blast as he sprinted towards the staircase near the south tower. He needed to find Hermione.

The battle had begun.

It took far too long to reach the other side of the Entrance Hall. He was forced to dodge curses and falling debris as he went. Luckily nobody paid him too much attention yet. But eventually someone would recognise him, whether it was his father or just another death eater. Then he'd be doomed. He knew his appearance was quite distinctive so it was only a matter of time. By now he'd surely be branded as a traitor.

As Draco skidded around a column and moved closer to the stairwell, he spotted a mousy brown head of hair flying backwards about two metres after being hit by a hex. It was a student, one who'd clearly volunteered to stay behind and fight. The boy was losing badly as he duelled with a far more experienced death eater. The man behind the mask wasn't even trying very hard, cackling and jeering as he fired spells patiently, slowly wearing the poor kid down.

As he raised his wand and shouted the killing curse, Draco launched himself at the boy, slamming him to the ground and probably knocking the wind out of him. While the death eater was momentarily taken aback by his unexpected arrival, Draco grasped his wand and rolled to one side, firing a stunning spell up at him.

"_Stupefy_!"

The cloaked figure was thrown backwards and landed unconscious in a heap on the stone floor, robes askew and mask slipping half off his face. Draco didn't even recognise him.

"Woah!" the exclamation came from the boy he'd just tackled to the floor. Draco twisted his head around to stare at the kid. He vaguely remembered him. Some Gryffindor sycophant a year below them who used to follow Potter around like a lapdog taking photos of him. Something Creevey.

"You alright?" he asked, a bit out of breath. The boy nodded, eyes wide and glowing with awe.

"Uh…y…yeh! That was brilliant."

"Pick your battles, will you? That guy was enormous!" he warned as he got to his feet and offered the other young wizard a hand, hauling him upright.

"Oh sure! Fair enough. Sure can do. Th…thanks!"

"No problem," Draco told him curtly. He clasped the boy once more on the shoulder and then ran past him. He had to keep going. The battle was starting to crowd in closer and become more intense. Death Eaters were swarming around the hall now. He managed to dodge another curse as he flung himself into the stairwell. Draco began his ascent, cursing his lack of stamina as he began panting by the third floor. The sounds of battle faded into the distance, but occasionally the castle rumbled from a stray explosion. By the time he got to the seventh floor, Draco was pale and exhausted. After this was all over, if he survived, he was going to have to work on his fitness.

Spying the outline of the door in the stone wall opposite the familiar tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, Draco moved forwards to push it inwards. It was already propped slightly open, so he didn't have to worry about what room he should imagine when making his request. He had a feeling he knew what he would find inside anyway. Sure enough he was greeted by the towering piles of junk that belonged to the room of hidden things. Warily he crept around a few corners and tried to avert his eyes from the looming shape of the vanishing cabinet on his left. Just the knowledge that it was there made him shudder. Distantly he heard voices raised in anger and he moved towards them, wand drawn. As Draco neared a bend in the path leading through all the rubbish, he was able to vaguely make out what was being said.

"-Dark Lord will honour me for bringing him Potter's rotting corpse."

"But Vince, didn't he say to leave Potter for him?"

"Shutup Goyle! Now you three drop your wands."

Draco recognised the voices of his two former minions, for lack of a better term, and clenched his wand tighter. He had no idea what those two had gotten up to in his absence, but Vince had always had a spiteful streak. Greg was stupid enough to go along with anyone and anything, but Crabbe had a truly sadistic side that had made a number of appearances over the years. Draco had actually been glad to use the Vanishing cabinet as an excuse to distance himself from them in their last few terms together. As he crept closer to the corner near where the confrontation was unfolding, he tried to work up the courage to attack his old companions if necessary. They had never been friends really, but it still felt difficult to just suddenly turn on them. But if Hermione were in danger… well, he'd do anything in that situation. He listened as Vince continued to argue with the golden trio.

"Go to hell, Crabbe," Weasley spat, showing his typical flair for blind recklessness.

"You have no idea the power I control now!"

"Yeh right, troll-brains!"

"I'm a model student now, you know. They've taught me so much. I've learned spells you can't even begin to imagine."

"You're outnumbered, Crabbe," Hermione's voice reminded the boy calmly, showing her usual skill for logic. Draco heart clenched dramatically at the sound of her voice. He almost snapped his wand in half at the visceral pleasure of hearing her again after so long.

"How dare you speak to me, you dirty mudblood," Crabbe yelled, his tone shaky and more than a little deranged. Draco felt a chill run down his spine at the word. Then another shout came from the Slytherin boy.

"_Crucio!_"

When he heard Hermione's small shriek and the shocked exclamations of her two friends, Draco's whole body was filled with the icy chill of cold determination. His knuckles had turned white as they gripped his wand and he was shaking with rage as he spun around the corner. It only took a split second to absorb the scene. Hermione stood hunched as she ducked underneath the arc of the torture spell and Crabbe was standing in the centre of the open space, his pudgy face filled with callous fury.

"Stupefy!" Draco yelled for the second time that night. The curse flew straight and true right into Crabbe, where it buried itself into his chest. The enormous boy slumped to the floor with a resounding thump, unconscious. Seconds later he heard Potter's voice clear and loud follow his, yelling the disarming spell, and soon Goyle's wand flew into the Gryffindor's hand. Greg stood there dumbfounded, blinking in confusion at the scene before him.

Then Draco turned to face the trio standing near a mountain of old school relics and rickety furniture. The two boys, though thinner and more dishevelled than normal, just appeared totally stunned by his sudden arrival and his actions. But they didn't attack him, which was a bonus. Though Weasley did turn an amusing shade of crimson.

But he didn't care about them. Draco's eyes immediately sought Hermione's. She was the only reason he was here. The only thing that could have evoked such a powerful reaction in him to someone being attacked by the Cruciatus curse. She looked a bit ruffled, but otherwise just as magnificent as he remembered after all these months. Her beautiful dark brown eyes were wide with a mixture of shock, disbelief and hope, but still the exact same shade and depth he had been dreaming of all this time apart.

"D…Draco?" she croaked, "_Draco!"_

The first time she said his name it was tremulous and fearful, like she didn't quite believe he was really there. But the second time, she whispered it like a prayer. He'd never heard anyone say his name like that.

Without warning or time to brace himself, Hermione tore across the space between them and threw herself into his arms.

"Oof-"

The wind was knocked out of him as he found himself absolutely surrounded by his witch. Her arms flung themselves around his neck and she squeezed him so tight it was like she was worried he'd disappear if she didn't hold onto him. Once he recovered from the shock, Draco hurriedly returned the embrace, revelling in the feeling of touching her once more. His fingers dug into the skin on her back, wondering if he could someone bind himself to her so she could never leave him again. He breathed in her scent and felt his heart swelling with emotions too intense to give name to.

All too soon, she drew back from him, and Draco almost felt his gut drop at the loss of contact. But then she grabbed his face in both hands, fusing their lips together in a fierce kiss. He faintly registered two matching coughs as the boys behind her cleared their throats awkwardly, but he didn't care. He was kissing Hermione again and nothing on this earth could stop him from cataloguing every wonderful moment and letting it fill him up. He murmured her name between kisses, whispering it like a prayer.

Eventually they had to part for air, and he noticed a bit belatedly that Hermione's cheeks were damp with tears. She half sobbed and half laughed as she took him in, her eyes scanning up and down to make sure he was whole and unharmed.

"Wh…what are you doing here?" she asked in a hoarse rasp.

Draco swallowed, brushing a few loose curls off her face and running his thumb along one bony cheekbone. She'd lost weight, he realised, and his stomach clenched unpleasantly as he tried not to think about what she'd been going through these last few months.

"Hermione, I'm done being a coward," he told her solemnly, "I don't want to run away anymore. My father is out there somewhere hurting people…people like you. So I'm here to fight with you. _For _you."

Hermione shuddered with another quiet sob as she smiled at him beautifully. He brushed the tears off her cheeks as more fell.

"You stupid, stubborn ass-" she sniffled, and then she kissed him again and it was everything he'd remembered and more. How he could have possibly thought he could move on with his life without _this, _Draco didn't know.

"Er…Hermione…" a voice spoke from somewhere behind them, sounding incredibly uncomfortable. They parted with a chuckle and she wiped her cheeks and nose impatiently before turning to her friends. Draco warily looked over at them too, dreading their reactions but at the same time filled with an obstinate resolve to stand up to them if they behaved like wankers. But what was odd was that neither of her two friends looked overly shocked by the sight before them. Awkward and a bit queasy, yes, but not horrified like he expected.

"Is this really the right time…or place…?" Weasley asked clumsily, flushing in embarrassment but also looking a bit defensive. He appeared somewhat green now.

"Oh shut it," Hermione grumbled next to him, her shoulder brushing against his. Before he could even think to raise his wand again, Potter was stepping forwards right in front of him, his eyes narrowed. For a second Draco thought he'd attack him, but Potter just stared at him with questioning green eyes.

"Malfoy," he greeted with a forcibly polite nod.

"Potter," Draco replied sharply in response.

"Hermione told us she helped you get rid of your dark mark."

Draco bristled but attempted to stay calm, wondering why the other boy thought he had the right to ask such a personal question.

"She did," he confirmed, keeping his answer short and sweet.

"You also seem to be developing a habit of saving her…" Draco must have looked a bit confused because Potter chimed in again to explain, "Just now, obviously. And the thestral. Also according to Dobby _you're _the reason he found her at the manor. You told him to protect her, so he did."

Draco nodded slowly, watching the other boy warily as if expecting some kind of twist in the conversation where he blamed him for everything that had happened. But it never came. Instead Potter thrust his hand out in a gesture of solidarity. Draco stared at it suspicious for a long moment before taking it, the two of them shaking hands a bit stiffly.

In his periphery he saw Hermione roll her eyes in frustration and mutter something that sounded like '_boys!_'. Draco smirked at her.

"You all look like shit, by the way," he drawled.

"Charming," she replied in a flat voice, "You're not exactly a treat yourself, you know. Is that sunburn?"

She pointed to the collar of his shirt where an angry pink blush still marked his skin. Draco glared at her.

"Maybe. Same ridiculous hair," he retorted, jabbing his finger towards the curls that were barely contained by the elastic she'd tried to wrestle them into.

"Same annoying personality," she argued back, waving her hand over his entire body with a quirk of one eyebrow. His smirk stretched into a full grin and he almost bounced up onto his toes with the happiness he felt at being near her again.

"I missed you… _so much_," he told her seriously, repeating the same words he'd sent to her using that damn galleon – was it only a week ago?

"I can't believe you came back!" she told him in a croaked whisper, leaning forwards. He met her halfway and kissed her tenderly again. But before Hermione could fully reciprocate or leap into his arms again more likely, Potter held up his hands with a frustrated expression.

"Alright, we get it. You might be on our side now, Malfoy, but I personally would rather _not _watch you snogging my friend."

"Yeh I really don't need to lose my breakfast here," Weasley piped up, still looking a bit nauseous. Potter nodded in agreement, before gesturing pointedly over at Greg.

"Also… we have another oversized problem if you recall," he reminded them. The poor guy was lumbering from one foot to the other nearby, clearly out of his comfort zone. Draco sighed, hoping that the larger boy was still as compliant as he used to be.

"Greg, you need to leave. Get out of here."

Weasley spluttered in indignation at the suggestion, but Draco just ignored him.

"Bu…but my father said I had to-"

"Screw your father! You don't belong here," he told him angrily.

"You…with _her_?" Greg asked a bit dumbly, his mouth still hanging half open, jabbing his thumb in Hermione's direction.

"Yeh. I'm staying here with her. But you should just…go home. Or literally anywhere else but here."

"I should?"

"Yes. You'll be worms meat if you stick around, mate. Just… just be a Slytherin, remember? Protect yourself."

Greg blinked at the familiar phrase, something they often used in their house as a code for survival.

"Right. Protect myself. Okay," he mumbled dazedly. Potter was following their conversation with interest and, seeing Draco's pointed look, he obediently threw Greg's wand back to him.

"Uh… are you sure, Harry?" Weasley muttered. But before the other boy could answer, Greg had apparated away with a _crack_, the castle's wards having collapsed when the Death Eaters broke through earlier. The Gryffindors seemed a bit surprised that the boy hadn't even bothered to try attacking them once his wand was returned.

"You're full of surprises, Malfoy," Potter murmured with a curious glance in his direction.

"Yeh I'm a fucking mystery," Draco muttered with a sneer, though it lacked his usual menace. Potter chuckled briefly before sighing and running a hand through his messy brown hair.

"Yes well…anyway… did you get the diadem Ron?"

"Sure did. But it just looks like a rusty old piece of shit. Are you sure it's one of his…er…_you know what?_" he said the last bit cautiously, eyes flicking over to Draco, as if worried about some terrible secret. Draco just rolled his eyes.

"Yeh, I'm positive. I can feel it," Potter said in a quiet, strained voice.

"Alright. Let's do this, then."

Weasley placed what looked like a gaudy old tiara on the floor in the middle of their group. Hermione sidled closer to him, slipping her hand down and linking their fingers together. Draco smiled to himself and squeezed her hand in response. This made it all worth it, he thought. Even if he died some kind of gruesome death tonight, at least he was by her side. At least he was a better man in this moment, someone he – and _she – _could be proud of.

Then Potter lifted something towards him and he blinked in confusion. It was a dirty great big fang, stained with some kind of black sludge.

"Uh…no thanks," he joked dryly, but Potter just pressed it closer towards him.

"Are you serious about this, Malfoy?" the boy asked, "are you really here to help us, to fight with us tonight?"

Draco glared at the other boy, not sure whether he was walking into a trap.

"Of course I'm bloody serious. I'm risking my neck to be here. I'm probably going to have a bigger target on my back than even _you _out there," he reminded him.

"Then it's your turn," Potter informed him seriously, still presenting the fang up as some kind of prize, "if you're one of us, then it's your turn."

"My turn for what?" he asked warily, wondering if this was some kind of messed up test. His eyes darted across to Hermione, but she was smiling sweetly at him, her hand gripping his tightly.

"See that diadem?" Potter asked him, pointing down at the tarnished piece of jewellery on the floor, "it's got a piece of Voldemort's soul inside it."

Draco's gut clenched in fear at the name, but then his mind was soon screeching to a halt at the other unexpected and horrifying bit of information.

"Bloody hell…it's got…a…_what?_"

"If we destroy them all, then he'll be mortal. Isn't that what you want?"

Draco growled angrily, surprised he could even ask him that.

"_Of course_ I want him gone. I hate that insane, snake-faced mother fucker!"

Weasley actually chuckled at the insult, seemingly impressed.

"Then this is your chance. If you stab the diadem with this fang you'll get rid of a piece of him. Then we're one step closer," Potter explained. Draco felt an excited chill run down his spine. This was really happening. Potter finally had a way to kill that son of a bitch. It also explained why the Dark Lord had seemed to be immortal all these years, if there really were bits of his soul lying around. And if _he_ got the chance to eliminate even just one small fragment of him…

It sounded bloody brilliant to be honest.

"Well fucking hell yes. Sign me up," he announced with a cocky smirk, reaching out to snatch the fang from Potter's hand. Hermione gave his hand one last squeeze and the three Gryffindors all stepped back, forming a circle around the object. It looked so plain and unthreatening sitting there in the middle of a moth-eaten rug.

"So…er…how does this work? Do I just stab at it?"

Potter moved to position the crown so that the jewelled centre was facing slightly upwards.

"Yep, right here."

Then the three of them moved back a couple of steps, their expressions fearful enough to make Draco wonder what the hell was going to happen when he stabbed the damn tiara. He glanced at Hermione and saw her taking a deep, calming breath and it soothed him as well. He could do this.

With a long, piercing yell of anger, Draco hurled all his bitterness and hatred for the Dark Lord into a downward thrust. He jammed the tip of the fang into the jewel on top, the metal screeching and giving way more easily than it should have if it had just been made from regular metal and not the cursed kind.

"_Argh!_" he shouted in shock as the vibrations of something dark shot up the arm he'd used, wrapping around the area where his dark mark used to be. He fell backwards, quickly scrambling away from the feeling as he freed his arm with a terrified yelp. At the same time a hauntingly shrill ringing sound echoed out from the diadem along with what looked like tendrils of black smoke. Draco watched in horror as a figure took shape out of the fog. It was female, curled up in the foetal position, her body convulsing and writhing in pain. Then the sound of her wailing pierced the air. The smoke seemed to solidify until the image became more and more clear.

It was Hermione, he realised. She was in pain. She was being tortured.

Then another gust of smoke rose from behind her. Lucius Malfoy stood over her poor, fragile body, wand raised. He looked demonic. Through the smoke Draco could just make out the cold, vicious smile stretching his deformed lips as he moved his mouth to speak the next curse.

Then there was another rush of air and the smoky figures were suddenly drawn back down into the diadem with a haunting scream. The wind whipped his face, as the scene was sucked back down into the object on the floor.

Everything went still and became eerily silent in a split second.

The crown now sat innocently on the musty rug beneath them, its metal twisted and melted. Draco was panting as he stared down at it, his forehead covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His heart was drumming painfully as he tried to grapple with what he'd seen. With a choked gasp his eyes darted up to stare at Hermione in distress. He'd only found out an hour or so ago that she had been tortured by his family. Since then he'd barely had time to even think about.

But _seeing _the image dance before him like some kind of fucked up mirage was too much. He hadn't been there to save her. He hadn't been able to protect her from his own father. _His _father.

"I…I'm…" he stammered, his eyes blurring with tears that even the presence of Potter and Weasley couldn't stem, "I'm so _sorry-_"

Hermione blinked in surprise at his reaction. She was clearly looking a bit taken aback by the nightmarish sight they'd witnessed as well, but her eyes were kind as she approached him hurriedly. The witch dropped down to her knees in front of where he sat sprawled on the floor, reaching out to grasp his hand.

"I'm fine. I'm safe, it's all right."

Draco shook his head angrily, gripping her hand tight in his.

"It's _not _all right," he spat, trying to blink back the stinging in his eyes, "I could have been there, I could have done something. It was…_my _family. My family that hurt you."

"It's not your fault, Draco," she told him quietly, her bottomless brown eyes filled with compassion and something tender he could hardly name, "you're not responsible for their actions."

"They _hurt _you," he repeated numbly, allowing his eyes to rake over her properly for the first time. He'd been so swept up in the excitement of seeing her again that he hadn't dared to think too much about what she might have endured. But Hermione just smiled sheepishly and lifted one shoulder up in an innocent shrug.

"And if you hadn't asked Dobby to protect me, I wouldn't have survived. But I did. I'm right here. See?"

She drew his hand up to her face and encouraged him to touch her cheek. Draco did, tracing the curves of her face and feeling the soft weight of her hair against his fingertips. As he did his pulse calmed and he took a deep, steadying breath. He desperately wanted to kiss her again just to make sure she was real, but a voice interrupted them worriedly from behind her.

"Er…Harry? Mate? What's happening?"

They both responded to the concern in Weasley's voice, spinning around from where they were huddled to see what was going on. Potter had staggered back a couple of steps and was crouched low, cradling his head in his hands as though suffering a terrible migraine. Hermione carefully drew him to his feet and they both approached the boy-who-lived, hands grasped firmly between them. Draco quickly brushed his tears away.

"What's going on? He looks like he's having a stroke," he asked in a low voice, noticing a small trickle of blood coming from Potter's left nostril. But Hermione just shushed him gently, sharing an anxious look with Weasley. After a moment, Potter lifted his head. He looked shaken but appeared to have returned to normal. His hands were trembling as he pushed his wild brown hair off his forehead.

"I know where he is," the boy announced grimly.

"Who?" Draco asked in confusion.

"Voldemort. We need to get to him right now."

"Where is he?" Weasley asked, as though the strange creepy vision Potter had clearly just had was a totally regular and not at all fucked up occurrence.

"The Shrieking Shack."

Draco's heart skipped at the thought that they might now make their way to the haunted building to confront him. He wasn't sure what insane plan the trio had, but as he felt Hermione's hand quivering with nerves against his, he knew his place was by her side no matter what.

Weasley tugged his friend to his feet and the Chosen One stared down solemnly at the twisted husk of the diadem sitting negligently on the floor. Then he lifted his gaze to look at Draco and gave him a small, whimsical smile that was rather at odds with what had just happened.

"Welcome to the club, Malfoy."

…

…

…

**Hope you enjoyed the reunion. And yay, Draco got to destroy a horcrux! Go Draco! Now they've become the golden…quartet? Ha. Please review!**


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Back again, sorry for the slight delay. Work is busy! I thought I knew how to end this story, but my brain keeps throwing in different suggestions and I have some serious decision-making to do.**

**As always, JKR is the maker!**

…

…

**Chapter Nineteen**

…

As the golden trio made their way carefully down the back staircase of the Astronomy Tower, Hermione felt her heart start pounding when she heard the sounds of battle grow louder. There were screams and bursts of rubble, and underneath all that the sharp, metallic scent of blood and burning flesh. She gripped Draco's hand more tightly in hers. She hadn't let him go since they left the Room of Requirement.

Hermione couldn't believe that he had come back to her. She glanced sideways at him, drinking in his pale blond hair and sharp features. When she had seen him standing there, bursting out to hex Crabbe for daring to try and use the torture curse on her, Hermione's heart had twisted with a great wave of shock and adoration. He'd been furious, jumping to her defence with a manic energy that had been evident on his face.

Then he'd been forced to watch that strange vision inside the dying horcrux. She could see even now the tormented shadow that continued to darken his soul. She was pretty sure, from what she'd been able to see from behind the diadem, that the smoke had taken the shape of _her. _It was a distorted recreation of her being tortured by his father. After it vanished, Draco had apologised to her, begged her for forgiveness. She knew what he was thinking, like always. He was blaming himself for what had happened at his family's house at the hands of his aunt and father. But he didn't need to. She didn't blame him at all. Just because Lucius was his father did not make him responsible for the man's behaviour. He had risked everything to escape his father's clutches and seek out his own life. As far as she was concerned, the two had no correlation in her mind other than the tragic fact that Lucius needed to pay for his crimes against his son and the way he'd treated his own flesh and blood when Draco was growing up.

Unfortunately she wasn't sure that he would ever believe that she could so easily forgive him for the terrible and unavoidable fact that she'd been tortured by his father. That wouldn't stop her from trying though. It might take her years, but she'd eventually make sure he knew he was innocent in this whole horrible event.

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by the fracturing sound of stone as a great split was torn into the wall above them. She shrieked and ducked her head as dust rained down on them. A cloaked figure appeared at the bottom of the staircase, wand point up at them as he went for a second curse. But before he could voice his next spell, Harry hurled a stunner at him lightning fast and he was thrown violently into the wall behind him, head hitting the stone with an unpleasant crack.

"That was close," Ron breathed, signalling that it was all clear up front. They moved on, dodging and weaving their way through the Entrance Hall and out onto the front lawns of the castle. Hermione tried not to become too distracted by the fighting around them. They had a mission. And getting waylaid helping every single student out here wasn't going to work in the long run. The best way to help the Order and the students fighting was to finish this. To kill Voldemort. Then it would all be over.

But it was hard not to tremble at the sight of the battle going on around them. The castle was overrun by all manner of horrible things, and the Death Eaters seriously outnumbered their enemy.

Swiftly the group of four approached the whomping willow. But as they rounded the corner near its swinging branches, Hermione felt a sharp tugging on her hand as Draco skidded to a halt. She stopped too, wondering what had caught his attention. The other boys ran ahead unknowingly, focused entirely on freezing the tree's movements.

"Draco-" she spluttered, gaze darting around to see what had brought him up short. And standing to one side of the forbidden forest, wearing all black but no cloak or mask, was Narcissa Malfoy.

Hermione gasped. The blond woman was just standing there, tall and proud. As if she wasn't right in the middle of a battlefield. Her pointed features looked pinched and cool. Her nose was turned up and she was looking at the two of them like they were insects under her shoe.

But she was Draco's _mother_. Surely she had some small feeling of affection or protectiveness where he was concerned.

"Mother-" Draco murmured quietly, but still audible enough to be heard over the sounds of battle behind them. She didn't say anything, just watched him with slightly narrowed eyes.

"Mother," he tried again, taking a single step closer to her.

Hermione couldn't understand why the woman didn't do something or say anything. She just stood there. She didn't even blink when confronted with the son she'd probably been told was dead. Isn't that what Lucius had said to everyone? Yet here he was alive in front of her, and still nothing. No reaction.

As Draco took a second step towards her, Narcissa finally moved. But rather than reach forward and greet or embrace her son, she inched away. The expression on her face was detached and as cold as ice. Like nothing could penetrate that emotionless exterior. Hermione wanted to say something, to yell at the woman or shake some sense into her. She wanted to scream at her to look at her son and not dismiss him like he meant nothing to her.

But that's exactly what she did. Without saying a word, Narcissa turned her back on the two of them and began walking away, her posture stiff and regal, in the direction of castle. She didn't even glance back as she left them standing there in a state of shock.

When Draco went to dash after her, Hermione grasped his hand and held tight, keeping him by her side. Harry was calling their names from beyond the bend in the trees.

"Don't," she whispered, "Just let her go."

He nodded his agreement with a reluctant sigh, but allowed her to tug him in the direction of the whomping willow once more. She hoped she'd done the right thing. His emotions were already spiralling out of control and if the woman continued to treat him with disdain and aloofness, or if she outright rejected him, then he would lose it. This was certainly not the time or the place for that. Hermione just wanted to protect him.

"You okay?" Ron asked with a look of concern as they approached the now docile willow tree. He must have noticed the depressed look on the Slytherin boy's face. Hermione thought it was rather sweet that he seemed worried about Draco, no matter what shape or form it took or what was going on around them. It gave her hope.

"Yes," she replied with a reassuring smile, "lead the way."

The four of them crawled down the winding tunnel underneath the whomping willow, ducking and weaving their way around tree roots and rock underneath the ground. As they did, Hermione allowed her and Draco slowly fall back a bit until they were dawdling a couple of metres behind the boys. The tunnel widened just enough for them to squeeze through side by side. But before she could say anything, she heard Draco's voice pipe up beside her,

"She didn't even speak to me," he muttered and Hermione felt her chest tighten with pity as she looked at his grim face from the corner of her eye.

"Maybe she was…in shock. You were thought to be dead, after all…"

Draco shook his head sadly, giving her a wry, twisted smile.

"You don't know my mother. Nothing ruffles her. No, the reason she didn't speak is because she didn't want anything to do with me," he informed her, his tone infused with bitterness.

"I'm sorry, Draco," she whispered mournfully, wishing there was something more she could do.

"It's fine," he told her, "I'm used to it. She's always been like this. It's just hard to accept… I mean for Merlin's sake even Neville bloody Longbottom was happier to see me," he grumbled resentfully, pushing back his hair with an impatient gesture. Hermione smiled softly at the reference to Neville, wondering when the two had seen each other and what had occurred.

"_I _was _very _happy to see you," she reminded him meaningfully, reaching down to link their fingers once more. The move worked, and Draco quickly melted against her, the stiffness leaving his body as he tilted his head to grin at her.

"You were indeed. I'm still winded."

Hermione clucked her tongue and almost went to poke him in the ribs for his cheek. But before she did, Harry shushed them from up ahead. Looking around, Hermione was surprised to note they'd come quite far down the tunnel. Up ahead was the familiar trap door that led up into the ground floor of the old house. Candlelight was spilling down in rivulets from between the cracks in the wood. The four of them managed to arrange themselves in a tight group, pressed close to the entrance to the shrieking shack. Shadows moved above them and slowly the sound of voices became clearer. It didn't take long for Hermione to identify them. She would have recognised the distinctive drawl of Severus Snape even if Draco hadn't suddenly dug his fingers into her arm in shock. Wincing slightly, she strained to hear what was being said.

"Your wand has done powerful magic, even just tonight…"

"No, Severus," the hissing sound sent immediate and visceral chills down Hermione's spine. She'd never heard Voldemort's voice in person like this and her pulse began to race almost painfully, "_I am _powerful. But the wand continues to resist me."

There was a slight pause before Snape spoke again.

"Please my lord, let me go and find the boy and bring him to you."

"I have asked you here for another reason, Severus."

"But my lord, Potter is out there. I can find him-"

"I said _no!_"

Hermione exchanged a nervous glance with Harry. Although he didn't know the truth about Snape's loyalties, even he looked a bit concerned by the direction the conversation was taking. She assumed his famous instincts were kicking in. Voldemort continued in a high, cold voice.

"I find myself disappointed, Severus. You see, I had hoped this wand would serve me faithfully. I was the one who took it from Dumbledore's weak and withered corpse…"

She saw Harry's hands curl into fists until all she could see in the dark tunnel were the whites of his knuckles.

"You _are_ its master, my lord," Snape insisted, but even Hermione could hear the unfamiliar tremor in his voice, the slightest hint of fear.

"Am I?" Voldemort retorted in a surprisingly calm voice, as if he were merely discussing the weather, "I am beginning to doubt whether the wand recognises me-"

"It does, my lord," Snape argued, a tinge of desperation there now.

"No I think not. You see… I was not the one who defeated Dumbledore, was I Severus?"

"My lord-"

"_You_ defeated him."

There was a chilling pause as everyone in that room and beyond saw clearly where this was going. With a slight shuffling sound, Draco moved closer to the trap door, almost as though he was about to spring up and burst into the room. Ron shuffled forwards hurriedly and managed to grab onto the boy's shoulders while Hermione squeezed his hand warningly.

"_No Draco!_" she whispered quietly, the sound remaining concealed within their hidden alcove underneath the floor. The blond Slytherin froze, straining to hear what was being said above, his body still tense with the need to leap into action.

"My lord, I am sure the wand would not serve _me_ as its master…" Snape reasoned, trying to seem in control when they could see his legs shaking through the cracks in the wood above.

"But you killed Albus Dumbledore," Voldemort announced in a cold voice, and the rustling of his robes against the floor indicated that he was pacing in front of the former potions master.

"Yes, I did," Snape confirmed oddly, his voice slow and thoughtful as though he were weighing his option, "_However_…I was not the one who actually overpowered him."

"What do you mean, Severus?" Voldemort snapped impatiently, probably not used to actually having to listen to another person's advice or opinion on any subject. Snape cleared his throat, speaking with great hesitance.

"It was Draco Malfoy who disarmed the headmaster. It was Draco who won his wand long before any of us arrived."

There was an achingly long, tense pause as everyone absorbed this bit of information. The three Gryffindors down in the tunnel blinked and stared at the boy through the darkness, who himself was looking quite taken aback. Voldemort hissed in an open expression of shock.

"The Malfoy boy?"

"Yes my lord. It is possible that the wand's allegiance belongs to him."

Hermione frowned, wondering why Snape was giving up the name of his godson and essentially placing an expiration date over his head. For surely Voldemort was looking to kill whoever he could to gain the mastery of what she suspected was actually the elder wand. Was Snape really prepared to throw Draco to the wolves to save his own neck?

But no, she realised, holding more firmly onto Draco's hand as he twitched nervously where he stood. Snape had no idea that Draco was here. That he had come back to Hogwarts. He probably figured the boy was thousands of miles away. He didn't know that he was putting his godson in immediate danger. Voldemort clearly followed the same train of thought.

"That seems very convenient for you Severus," he noted menacingly, "the boy has disappeared and nobody has seen him in months. Lucius claims the boy is dead, though I hold no faith in that snivelling coward's word."

"Convenient, my lord?" Snape questioned nervously. Voldemort chuckled but it was a hollow, dreadful sound.

"You may very well be right about the wand. Which means I am no closer to bending its power to my will than I was before. And it saves your slippery skin in the process."

"Indeed, my lord," Snape mumbled in response, ducking his head into a subservient bow and backing away a step. His shoulders seemed to have relaxed a fraction, as though he hoped the worst had passed.

"I will find Lucius," Voldemort muttered down towards the ground, where Hermione imagined Nagini curled up waiting for her master's command, "and have a little chat with him about his wayward spawn."

Severus audibly sighed in relief, but it was short lived.

"Your loyalty would have been wasted on such a pitiful death, Severus, I hope you appreciate that," Voldemort informed him silkily, "but it does well to be reminded of the delicate path you walk, my slimy little spy."

And with that, Voldemort slashed his wand down in a brusque arc. Some kind of purple tinged spell hit Snape with force, propelling him into the opposite wall. The potions master slumped there, gasping for breath and moaning in pain. With a crude, satisfied smile that made Hermione shudder, Voldemort gestured for Nagini to stay close to him as he vanished from the shrieking shack with an ear-splitting _crack _of magic.

The four of them remained deathly silent for a couple of seconds, praying to whoever would listen that Voldemort was truly gone. But after a slight pause, Draco couldn't wait any longer. He hurled himself forwards, throwing Ron away from him and grappling with the wooden trap door as he urgently burst into the room. Luckily it was empty now, aside from the cowering form of Severus Snape against one wall. He was struggling to breathe and there was a long slice across his chest. The blood was soaking into his shirt and his face was pinched and white.

Draco raced towards the man, dropping to his knees beside him. Snape blinked and stared up at him in shock. He shook his head numbly.

"No…no you're not supposed to be here. You're…supposed to be…safe…"

The older wizard was spluttering, his voice wet and gargled with blood frothing up from inside his lungs. He was clearly stunned by Draco's appearance, especially knowing what he had just told the Dark Lord about the boy.

"It's okay, Severus. I'm going to help you," Draco murmured, his eyes roving over the man's chest. Hermione hurried forwards to kneel on Snape's other side. She gingerly parted the front of his coat and shirt, seeing the deep gash burned into his skin.

"Draco, put your wand here," she gestured to a spot towards the top of the wound, surprised by how steady her voice sounded. Clearly she'd experienced her fair share of trauma lately, and she felt eerily calm. She could fix this. Looking down at the injury, it was not as bad as she'd feared.

Behind her she heard Harry murmur something to Ron and then the two of them began to recite the familiar protective enchantments she'd once taught them to put around their tent, warding the area from unwelcome visitors. After Draco had pressed the tip of his wand to where she'd directed, she gently showed him the correct movement and told him what spell to use.

"_Vulner Olnus. _Say it."

He did, repeating it several times as she nodded encouragingly. Once he had gotten into a good rhythm and was reciting it on his own, she turned her attention to her beaded bag.

"Accio Murtlap!"

The small jar flew into her waiting hand. Hermione quickly un-stoppered it and placed a few drops down the length of the gash. It had an immediate effect, helping to clean and heal the wound as Draco's spell sealed the damage. After a while, she held up her hand for him to stop. Looking up at Snape's face, she noticed his eyes had cleared somewhat and he was gritting his teeth as he tried to sit up straighter.

"Take it easy, Severus," Draco warned him gently, resting one hand on his shoulder to steady him.

"What are you doing here?" Snape asked him hoarsely, still coughing on blood trickling down inside his throat.

"I had to come back. You were right… about everything."

Snape nodded and shook his head, black eyes widening slightly.

"The Dark Lord… Draco, your life is in terrible danger if he sees you here-"

"I know," he mumbled gently, "I heard. It's okay."

"Has anyone seen you?"

Draco paused a bit and glanced at Hermione with a small, sad frown.

"My mother. She ignored me but… you never know. She might tell him I'm here."

"I'll try to talk to her, or obliviate her if I have to…" Snape answered, before suddenly succumbing to a coughing fit, blood and spittle flying from his lips. Hermione quickly conjured a flask of water from her bag and pressed it to his lips. The wizard took a few long, grateful gulps, sighing in relief.

"Thank you," he murmured softly, his obsidian eyes meeting hers with something almost tender in their depths. She'd never seen him look that way at her before and she tried to smile stiffly, reassuringly in response.

Before they could say any more, the air was pierced by the terrifying voice of Voldemort once more as he spoke to his followers and enemies alike. Then as he taunted Harry directly. His words sent a chill down Hermione's spine and her eyes immediately sought out Harry's.

"Don't even think about it," she warned him, knowing his tendency to be brave but suicidal if it meant saving his friends. But he wasn't even listening to her. Once Voldemort's message had finished, he had returned to staring at the prone figure of Snape, still slumped on the floor behind her. Harry's eyes were swimming with a complex jumble of emotions. Hatred confusion, pity, anger.

"Harry-" Snape's voice sounded, croaky and urgent from the floor and Hermione was surprised to see the solemn pleading in the older man's gaze. What was even more shocking was the name that came from his lips. Not Potter, but Harry.

"I need to give you something…a message-" he muttered, searching his pockets with shaking hands as he regained his strength.

"Why would I trust anything you say?" Harry demanded, his voice no more than a tremulous whisper, his whole body tense and quivering from head to toe. He even took a threatening step forwards. But before he could get too close, Draco stood up quickly and blocked his way, standing a head taller than Harry and growling in a low, menacing tone.

"Back off, Potter."

"No it's alright," Snape interrupted, slowly dragging himself up the wall as he tried to stand. Hermione immediately jumped forward to help him, and he leaned gratefully on her shoulder as he managed to get up onto two feet. Half his weight was being supported by her, though, and she worried if she let him go he'd fall back down.

"I don't expect you to trust me. But please…there's something you need to see. A message that Dumbledore wanted me to pass on to you before it was too late."

"How dare you say his name," Harry muttered, but the fight seemed to have gone out of him as he saw how weak the older wizard was, slumped over his best friend and being protected by Draco.

"A vial…a vial…" Snape murmured impatiently as he searched his pockets. Hermione quickly grabbed one from her own bag and handed it to him.

"Prepared as always, Miss Granger," he commented under his breath, taking the glass vial from her with one frail, blood soaked hand. The four of them watched in fascination as he lifted his wand and drew a long silvery thread from his temple, placing it in the vial. It was a memory. Or multiple memories perhaps, given how long the wispy string had seemed.

Hermione helped him to stopper it, passing it over to Harry with an encouraging look, willing him to be open to seeing a different side of this man, just once. Harry took it grudgingly, clasping it in his hand and letting out a slow breath. But before he could say anything else, Snape hissed and gripped his arm where the dark mark was, his expression twisting in pain.

"He's expecting us. I have to go."

"No Severus-" Draco began in a tone of outrage.

"I have no choice, Draco," Snape argued, pushing gently off Hermione's shoulder and steadying himself against the wall. He teetered for a moment but stayed upright.

"That psycho just tore you a new one!"

"He's testing me. Testing my loyalties. But I could still be of some use."

"Not if you're dead!" Draco told him crossly, "and you promised me you'd try _not _to die, remember?"

Snape chuckled, the sound rather odd coming from the normally dour man. But there was no humour in the laugh.

"We make sacrifices for the ones we love, Draco," he told him solemnly. His eyes passed from the blond Slytherin boy over to Hermione, giving her a meaningful glance, before finally falling onto Harry. He stared at the scruffy haired boy for a long time, as if deeply pained by something. His black eyes looked haunted, but he held that gaze as if his very life depended on it.

Then with the tiniest flick of his wand, Snape was suddenly gone, the sound echoing off the dusty walls of the shack.

"Uh…should we have let him go?" Ron asked from behind them, but his tone was fairly relaxed.

"Yeh," Draco confirmed, pursing his lips and running a hand through his hair, "he was right. We might need him yet."

Harry stared at the Slytherin boy curiously for a moment, as if he was trying to work everything out. Given that Harry had believed whole-heartedly in Snape's role as a traitor up until about ten minutes ago, he was contemplating the situation quite maturely, Hermione thought. He opened his palm up and inspected the memories Snape had drawn into her spare vial.

"We'd better get back to the castle," he announced, his tone serious and his expression shuttered. Hermione had a sinking feeling of dread that Voldemort's words had gotten to the boy, that he was feeling responsible for all the people who'd died. She only hoped he didn't do anything foolish and noble.

"Yeh," she agreed, "let's go."

She only hoped they would find answers back at the castle for what on earth they were supposed to do next.

…

…

…

Draco stood quietly outside the doors to the Great Hall, scuffing his foot against a piece of rubble that had fallen there. He really didn't want to go back inside. Everyone was standing around in small huddles, covered in blood and grime and mourning those who had not made it. Bodies littered the floor, including some that looked disturbingly familiar. He was certain he had recognised the auror with the pink hair. Wasn't she his cousin on his mother's side? He'd never met her, but the sight of her lying stiff and ghostly white on the floor of the Great Hall was distressing.

Eventually Draco had chosen to step outside. It was too much. Between all the death and despair, people kept staring at him suspiciously. Even though he stayed firmly in the presence of Hermione, they still regarded him as though he were the enemy. Well, most of them. The rest kept coming up with soppy smiles and shaking his hand. Apparently Colin Creevey had told everyone who would listen that the infamous Draco Malfoy had saved his life. He didn't know what was worse; the angry mob that wanted him gone or the fan club of Colin's friends who thought he was some kind of hero.

A part of him wished that he could have remained by Hermione's side, but she was a little preoccupied with the Weasleys. One of the brothers had been gravely injured it seemed, and the family was in there consoling each other and trying to patch him up as best they could. He didn't want to hang around like an unwanted intruder on their time together.

Draco's dark musings were cut off by the soft thuds of someone coming down the main staircase. They sounded like they were dragging their feet, kicking pebbles as they went. With a curious frown, he tilted his neck to peer up the staircase. Potter was descending from the second floor. His face was a wreck. His features appeared strained and his eyes were desolate with dark rings underneath. He seemed to have had all the energy drained from him. It also looked as though he wasn't quite aware of where he was walking either. He just continued on a blind path towards the doors leading out onto the front lawn of the castle.

Draco stepped forwards tentatively, clearing his throat uncomfortably. They might have been allies for the last couple of hours but there still existed years of hatred and distrust between them. Potter seemed a bit startled as he turned away from where he was headed and noticed Draco standing there with his arms folded across his chest.

"He won't spare them, you know," Draco told him in a serious voice, his brow furrowed as he confronted the boy who was clearly leaving in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.

"What?"

"If you sacrifice yourself, I mean," he explained, "it won't matter. He's lying. He'll still storm up here with his followers and kill every single person who dared to oppose him."

Potter considered him thoughtfully for a long moment, before letting out a sigh. His eyes darted to the doors behind Draco's back, clearly worried that someone else would come out and stop him from leaving.

"I know," the boy murmured quietly, "but that's not why I'm going. I have to. It's… there's no other way."

Draco cocked his head to the side, the small twinge of anger growing inside him at an alarming rate.

"No other way? How about _not_ being a suicidal wanker?"

"You don't understand, Malfoy," Potter growled, stepping forwards and right into his personal space, making Draco's spine prickle uncomfortably. But then the fight seemed to leave the other boy and his shoulders slumped.

"Then help me understand," Draco demanded in a low voice, "because if you go and bloody kill yourself for no good reason, then _I'm_ going to have to be the one who picks up the pieces when Hermione falls apart."

Potter watched him with a stricken expression, his skin going even paler than before, highlighting the dark bruises under his eyes. He seemed to deliberate for a long time about what he should do, finally surrendering to the evident desire to tell _someone _what was going on_, _even if it was the most unlikely person imaginable. He regarded his former nemesis with a sense of hopelessness as he spoke.

"There's something… _inside _me. Just like there was in that ugly diadem. Something that needs to be destroyed. And according to Dumbledore, the only way it can happen is if Voldemort kills me himself. I have to go. This is my fate. It's _always _been my fate."

Draco looked at the boy, horrified by what he was saying.

"Wait…is this what Snape's memories were for?"

"Yes. Dumbledore left him a message to give to me… among other things."

The boy's eyes were brimming with regret and a deep sense of conflict. Draco absorbed all this in silence before stepping forwards a little closer to the Gryffindor wizard.

"Are you sure? Is there no other way?" he asked, his voice choked with emotion. Potter blinked at him in surprise.

"Since when do you care about my stupid life, Malfoy?" he challenged weakly, but Draco just shook his head.

"Hermione cares," he explained shortly. He clearly did not need to elaborate, as Potter paused before nodding in acceptance of this simple fact. If anything he looked touched by Draco's feelings towards his friend.

"I need to go…" he stammered hoarsely, stumbling back a couple of steps. His eyes glanced warily at the Great Hall again. The last thing he needed was someone else trying to stop him, someone who was less rational than Draco.

"What should I tell the others?" Draco asked numbly, not sure why he was letting the fool go, but trusting that he knew what he was doing.

"Tell Ron and Hermione… tell them the truth. About why I did it. Tell them that the snake is the last one. And that I love them."

Draco nodded and watched as Harry turned away once more and moved towards the entrance doors, his slow steps almost ghost-like. But before he could disappear completely, a sudden thought struck the Slytherin, and he dashed across the few metres separating them.

"Potter, wait-" he muttered tightly, trying not to raise his voice and attract attention.

"What?"

"Disarm me!"

Potter blinked at him in confusion. But Draco just withdrew his wand from his pocket and held it aloft, in a gesture of surrender.

"What are you talking about?"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Think, Potter! You heard what Snape said. I'm the master of the bloody elder wand, or at least that's what Hermione said. She was a bit sketchy on the details. So if you disarm _me-_"

The other boy's eyes widened in understanding and he drew in a sharp breath.

"Oh! _Oh… _But it might help protect _you_ later-" Potter tried to argue but Draco just groaned in annoyance.

"Enough Gryffindor bullshit, Potter! You need this more than I do right now. This wand is _meant _to be yours. Aren't you the bloody Chosen One?"

Potter actually chuckled a bit, the amusement creeping in past the sadness that had been lurking there.

"Alright. Geez Malfoy, you're so pushy."

"Clearly she's a terrible influence on me," he muttered under his breath, thinking of that stubborn pout Hermione got when she refused to back down over something. Harry nodded slowly, moving carefully so as not to seem too threatening. Draco rolled his eyes in a clear gesture that he should hurry the fuck up.

"_Expelliarmus!"_

The wand flew from his hand and landed in Potter's neatly. The boy was pretty good at disarming charms. He twirled it around a couple of times curiously.

"Thanks," he murmured eventually, his eyes flicking to the door behind him. He tossed back the wand nimbly and Draco inspected the wood. It felt colder than before, and somehow deep down he knew it had worked. Wand lore was an odd branch of magic, but usually it just came down to instinct.

"Good luck," Draco told him, backing away and letting him leave, knowing that the longer they lingered there, the more chance there was of someone catching Potter before he could escape the castle.

"Be good to her," Harry warned him as a parting shot over his shoulder, and then the other boy had disappeared down onto the front lawns of the castle and Draco was left alone. He sighed and moved back to the Great Hall. Glancing inside, he saw the Weasleys laughing and crying in relief as one of the twins finally regained consciousness. The other twin was actually cheering with his arms in the air as he sobbed uncontrollably. It seemed the lucky boy had survived. Draco was glad. His eyes found Hermione's and she returned his gaze. She was smiling. She looked so happy.

Now he just had to find the courage to tell her that her best friend was on his way to meet with death.

…

…

…

**A rather suspenseful ending. Hope you liked the slight changes I made to JK's original. Any long time readers of mine will know I like to keep on the fringes of the canon. Please review! **


	20. Chapter Twenty

**And now for the big finale. Of the battle that is. Probably another chapter to follow wrapping everything up. But we're certainly getting towards the end.**

**...**

**Chapter Twenty**

**...**

**...**

When the voice of Lord Voldemort rang out across the grounds of Hogwarts once more, a terrified hush fell over the waiting crowd of witches and wizards inside the castle. Students clutched their friends for support and loved ones shared sorrow-filled glances. McGonagall darted around with her usual efficiency, even though she was clearly exhausted. She still stood tall and proud, rallying their forces for the next wave of battle. Her and Pomfrey had tended to the wounded while giving courage to those who were still standing. Slowly the mass of people began to stumble back through the doors and out onto the front lawns.

Hermione quickly sought out the familiar blond head of hair, peering desperately through the swarm of people around her. But before she could start to worry, he appeared at her side and grasped her hand, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking a bit green himself at the thought of the coming confrontation as Voldemort and the Death Eaters approached the castle.

"Yes, I'm fine. Have you seen Harry?" she asked, still glancing around the Entrance Hall curiously. Ron was with his family a few metres away, two of the older brothers supporting Fred between them. But there was no sign of Harry. When she looked back at Draco he was staring guiltily at the ground and running his hand through his hair uncomfortably.

"Hermione, listen-"

But before he could continue a low, growling voice interrupted him.

"Ye keeping out of trouble, boy?"

They both turned to see Aberforth limping a few steps behind them. He had a long gash across one cheek and his skin was mottled black from smoke and ash, but he had a calm grimace on his face too.

"So far," Draco replied with a shaky smile, "though trouble has a way of finding me whether I want it to or not."

Aberforth snorted dryly, catching up with them as they made their way outside.

"Have courage, lad. It's only going to get worse from here."

"Thanks," Draco drawled with a roll of his eyes and Hermione chuckled too. Aberforth really did suck at being comforting. But the older wizard just clapped Draco on the shoulder with a wink and moved to the left to stand next to Slughorn, whose purple robes were torn and his hat was dropping sadly to one side. Everyone else spread out across the grass or on the front steps. The early morning air smelt like dew and decay, even though the sun had not quite peeked its head up from beyond the treeline in front of them. Hermione waited tensely, watching the forest for any sign of movement. The fact that Harry was nowhere to be seen was bothering her, and a nagging suspicion that had taken hold in the back of her mind rose up.

_Oh please tell me he didn't do something stupid… _she begged, closing her eyes for a brief second as she took a deep breath. But it was hopeless. There was only one reason why Harry would have disappeared now at the crucial moment. It meant he'd done something terribly tragic and undoubtedly brave.

A sudden wave of anxiety swept over her, and Hermione couldn't take it. The fear was too much, not knowing whether she would ever see her friend again, whether she would see _any _of them again after this. Any one of them could die this morning, and she might only have minutes or hours left.

Her hands trembled as she caught Ron's eye a few metres away. She gave him a sad smile, her eyes filling with tears. He nodded back at her, his gaze soft and glowing with affection. He instantly picked up on her worries, giving her a tender, reassuring smile in return.

Then she turned to Draco. He was staring fixedly at the Forbidden Forest and his trepidation was clear. She could only imagine what he was thinking as he waited for his family to emerge from the trees. They were his enemy now. He must be tormented by conflicted feelings of duty and resentment. Hermione was still holding his hand gently in hers and she gave it a squeeze. As he turned towards her with his cool, grey eyes, she was filled with the thought that he didn't have to be here. He could have stayed safe and far away from this battle and she would have understood. She still would have loved him.

_I do love him…_

The emotion was so powerful she actually released a little sob of relief at finally being able to admit it. He had saved her life back when he still hated her, and everything since then had only proved that he was more honourable, sincere and brave than she could have ever imagined. She had never expected such things from him, and he had never given her false promises or platitudes. He was just… _Draco_ \- the boy who was now standing by her side against the same tide of evil that had tried to keep him in its grasp all these years. They were right together. It felt good and it felt light and heavy all at once. And she wanted to disappear with him to Aberforth's dusty old attic and wrap herself in his arms and never leave

"Hermione?" he murmured questioningly, looking down at her hesitantly as though he were worried about something, "there's something I need to tell you… about Potter…"

Hermione placed her fingertips over his lips gently, giving him a sad smile as the tears coursed down her face. He would only be confirming what she already knew, after all.

"I know…I _know,_ Draco."

The blond boy blinked a bit in surprise, but then lifted a hand to brush a tear from her cheek. He leaned forwards and brushed his nose against hers in a comforting gesture.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his breath falling softly onto her face, a contrast to the crisp, early morning air, "for Potter. For everything."

"Draco don't…" she began, closing her eyes and letting herself just soak up his presence, from the cool skin of his face to his familiar scent, "you've done _nothing _wrong."

"I shouldn't have left," he told her tightly and she could see the shame twisting his features.

"You came back. You're here," she reminded him.

"Too late," he muttered, "too late to save you-"

"Stop," she ordered him gently, aware that they didn't have much time. Any second now the Death Eaters would arrive at the castle, "Draco-"

Hermione paused for a moment, taking a long, fortifying breath as she leaned back to look into his eyes.

"I love you."

She whispered the words almost inaudibly, conscious of the people milling all around them and jostling them as they found a place to stand. But Draco could hear. Their faces were so close that their lips were almost touching.

"Wh…what?" he asked, his hands lifting compulsively to grip her shoulders as though she might vanish if he didn't hold on.

"When we were together all those weeks… I fell in love with you but didn't have the nerve to admit it to myself until after I'd left. I just wanted you to know. In case one or both of us dies this morning."

Draco urgently leaned forwards, closing the few centimetres between them as he kissed her. A couple of people standing nearby voiced their shock but she didn't care. When they parted his steely eyes were fierce and a little tormented as he gazed desperately into her own.

"Hermione… I am _so _in love with you," he told her in a hoarse croak that she almost had to strain to hear. Before she could react or say anything more, he kissed her again. But he had to break it off soon after as his breath shuddered lightly, overwhelmed by the moment. She realised it was probably the first time in his life he'd ever said or even heard the words. Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat, pressing kisses to his cheek and jaw as she stretched up onto her toes to reach him, giving him time to recover.

But before any more words could be spoken between them, a wave of horrified gasps passed through the crowd, and a few broken cries were heard. Hermione and Draco parted quickly, turning to stare down at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A small horde of figures were emerging, a sea of black cloaks with triumphant expressions. They had abandoned their masks now, clearly secure in the knowledge of their coming victory. Then Hermione's eyes were drawn to a tall, hulking figure weeping openly as he carried a familiar looking weight in his arms. To her left Hermione distantly heard Ginny call out in horror at the appearance of Harry, boneless and cradled in Hagrid's arms. Her heart stopped in that moment, almost choking her as she gripped at her chest. Draco looped his arm firmly around her shoulder, keeping her upright even as she felt the threat of her knees giving out.

"I've got you," he murmured tenderly in her ear, and the pain in his voice was clear too. Even though he probably still despised Harry, she knew that his mourning was for _her. _She drew enough strength from his kindness and compassion to stay standing tall in the face of Lord Voldemort. She barely even listened as the snake-faced wizard gloated about his conquest. Not when his hissing voice spat lie after lie. She just stared instead at Harry's body; willing him to wake up, to smile at her and let her know he was okay. But he remained motionless and her hope began to fade. After a while she tore her eyes away from him in pain, at the same time becoming aware of a restless shuffling by her side.

Hermione looked to her side and quietly observed Draco, embracing anything that would distract her from the sight of her lifeless friend. He appeared unsettled, shifting from one foot to the other and his pale features were pinched and terrified. She followed the direction of his glare, noticing the mirror image of him in the crowd of death eaters and realised that he was staring at his father.

Lucius was outraged. His face was black with a rage more intense than any she'd seen before. He was looking across the battlefield at his son as if he truly loathed him. When she stroked her thumb gently over the back of Draco's hand, he stood up taller, straightening his shoulders proudly.

Hermione's eyes scanned down the line of Death Eaters until they fell on Narcissa. The woman appeared just as detached as earlier. She didn't even have her wand drawn, and her cold eyes were turned away from her son. To Narcissa's right, positioned close to where Hagrid stood hunched and sobbing, she noticed Snape. He was just as menacing as always, sneer held firmly in place. But she noticed his eyes kept flickering sideways towards Harry's prone form. With a frown she wondered what had him concerned. Was he feeling upset that he couldn't save Harry? He'd done so before. Hopefully he could reveal his true loyalty soon and help them in this final confrontation.

Her attention was drawn back to Voldemort as he taunted the crowd in front of the castle, calling for anyone to cross over to his side. Then when nobody moved, he called them all cowards and blood traitors. If they didn't join him, he threatened, it meant they were his enemy. Bellatrix cackled at her master's words. She pointed directly at her nephew with a mad gleam in her eyes.

"You can start with _him_!" she screeched, the sound grating on Hermione's nerves. Beside her she felt Draco stiffen at the attention suddenly directed at him from both sides. Voldemort's cruel gaze landed on him, a tight scowl twisting his pale lips. He almost grinned in triumph, though it was a perverse expression that left her feeling uneasy.

"Malfoy the mudblood lover," the Dark Lord announced laughingly to the jeering of the death eaters behind him, "your son seems to have wandered off much closer to home than we thought, Lucius. Severus was certain he'd run off somewhere but you assured me your son was dead. And yet here he is."

Lucius looked horrified, as though he wished the ground would swallow him up. His eyes darted desperately towards his master, a sycophantic simper passing over his face. He spat on the ground in front of him.

"He is no son of mine!"

Hermione wondered whether Draco might have broken a couple of fingers in her hand. She was certain to have bruises if she survived this from how tightly he was clenching her.

"Just as well," Voldemort replied almost conversationally, his voice high and chilling, "He will die by _my_ hand tonight. Nobody else's."

It wasn't up for argument it seemed. The glare he directed around at his followers was met with obsequious nods, even from Lucius after a momentary pause. The bastard almost looked disappointed not to be allowed the honour of killing his own son for himself. But what none of them realised, except Snape of course, was that Voldemort hoped to gain mastery of Dumbledore's wand, which he still held in his bony white hand.

Hermione stepped a little bit closer to her blond companion, bridging the tiny gap between them and pressing her shoulder to his.

"Come now, Draco. No need to look so serious," Voldemort laughed a second later, almost brushing off the murderous glint in his eyes, "Your parents have missed you. Don't you want to say hello?"

There was something eerie and disingenuous about the whole thing, and it was hardly any surprise when a number of Death Eaters jeered and called him a blood traitor. Voldemort just chuckled. Hermione felt a warm wave of happiness when several Order members and students moved to stand around him in a protective guard.

"I'm exactly where I ought to be," Draco replied in a clear voice. Hermione was probably the only one who heard the slight tremor in his voice. A few people around them nodded approvingly, and she felt a fierce pride for the boy at her side.

"Is that so?" Voldemort snarled, the smile disappearing from his face, "well in that case…"

With a sharp cut of his wand, a crash echoed out over the grounds of the castle as a window shattered far above them. Everyone gasped in horror as a dark shape flew towards them. It wasn't until it came close that Hermione realised what it was. The Sorting Hat twisted madly through the air as it drew near. Then, when Voldemort curved his wand downwards, the hat swooped right down on top of Draco's head. A few people around him shrieked in terror and Hermione tried to reach up and help him.

That was when the hat caught fire.

Flames burst up and out of the weathered garment, hot and angry. Hermione yelped and fell backwards, unable to touch it. Everyone who jumped in and tried to help him was met with the same fate, until they were sprawled on the ground nearby, helpless in the face of this horrific sight. She tried once more to desperately crawl towards him to do something, anything, but was forced back by the searing heat. Around her she heard several people casting charms, trying to kill the flames, but nothing penetrated it.

_Oh god… Draco…_

To make matters worse, out of the corner of her eye she saw the snake approaching, its huge ominous form slithering towards them slowly. And the Death Eaters were starting to prowl forwards behind it too as Voldemort shrieked "die" at his victim, who was now fighting for his life.

Hermione was becoming frantic. She had to find a way to disrupt the spell on the sorting hat before they were surrounded. But she was out of ideas.

And then, when she thought all hope was lost, a figure suddenly appeared with a pop in front of them. It was Snape. He had skipped ahead and apparated in front of the oncoming horde, wand drawn. With a furious shout he slashed his wand down in a breath-taking arc of power, making the whole horde of death eaters stumble backwards. Voldemort himself faltered for a brief moment in shock, but it was long enough to disrupt the curse he had been maintaining.

As the flames vanished, Draco managed to wrestle the hat from on top of his head. Hermione was on her knees before him, urgently checking him over for injuries. But he seemed okay, if a little shaken. It must have been a magical fire. On his other side Neville was crouched down too, a worried frown on his face.

"Draco?" she gasped, clutching his face in her hands and looking him over worriedly. He nodded, swallowing visibly. She pressed her hand to his clammy forehead, but he managed a small, encouraging smile.

"I…I'm okay," Draco stammered, grabbing her hand.

"Gotta go _now_!" Neville urged them, helping her to haul Draco to his feet and stumble away. But before they got more than a couple of steps away, the Gryffindor boy suddenly paused, spying something on the ground.

"Neville-" Hermione shrieked, watching in horror as the snake slithered out in front of the oncoming death eaters. But Neville remained steady to his purpose. Leaping back towards the sorting hat, he grabbed something from within its folds. Hermione's breath caught as she noticed the glistening silver hilt of the Sword of Gryffindor, its length spotted with rubies.

"The sword!" she exclaimed in surprise while Neville hauled it out from inside the hat. Draco jumped forwards to help protect the other boy. He and Snape stood side by side, two Slytherins, standing strong against the might of Lord Voldemort.

"The snake, Longbottom!" Draco yelled, pointing urgently towards the creature approaching. What happened next was a bit of a blur. Neville sliced down through the air, cleanly cutting the head off Nagini who had launched herself at Draco. An ominous black smoke tore itself from the body of the snake, just like it had with the other horcruxes. But there was no time to dwell on it. With a small sob of relief, Hermione watched as a whole pack of centaurs thundered out from the forest to join the fight. And behind them was Grawp, swinging a tree trunk like a club and roaring for his 'Haggid'.

"Come on," Draco shouted, grabbing her by the hand. They raced backwards into the Entrance Hall, looking like an odd kind of group with Neville and Snape of all people trailing just on their heels. Everyone else had clearly had the same idea. The hall filled with people, bracing for the second leg of the battle as the remaining death eaters slowly started to trickle in. They lost Snape in the chaos. He was being ferociously attacked by the death eaters, who were now yelling obscenities at the traitor in their midst. Hermione was glad he'd been able to reveal his true loyalties now before the end. And it seemed as though Draco was almost forgotten when compared to the intensity of anger directed towards the potions master.

The battle picked up where it had left off earlier. Looking around, Hermione noticed that there seemed to be fewer Death Eaters than earlier. She wondered what had made them leave, though there were certainly still enough to put up a ferocious and deadly fight. Hermione stood back to back with Draco. They were fighting in sync, protecting each other from attackers. To her left she saw the Weasleys joined together into a single, fearsome unit. To her right Professor McGonagall was duelling calmly against Bellatrix. The sight of the mad witch made Hermione shudder, remembering the torture she had suffered not long ago at Malfoy manor. But the Head of Gryffindor by contrast was steady and controlled. Her spells had no unnecessary flourish or rage, just a cool determination. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione spotted her blond companion inching towards their fight. With a nervous breath she hoped he didn't do anything reckless. She knew that he held a great deal of hatred towards his aunt. But Hermione never even got the chance to caution him.

Without warning, a swarm of giant spiders suddenly raced through the entrance hall, driven from the forest by the death eaters. The centaurs were chasing them down, but it still caused the students around them to scream and dash out of the way. Hermione shot a few quick spells to stun the ones close by, but had to quickly roll out to the side when one dashed at her.

By the time she brushed herself off and got to her feet, the jumbled crowds of people surrounding her had shifted around the hall. Searching frantically for that familiar head of blond hair, she realised she couldn't see him.

"Draco? _Draco!_"

She called out to him through the dust and chaos, but there was no reply. She couldn't find him.

"Draco!"

Hermione gasped, clenching her wand tightly in her hand. The frenzied mess around her was too much. The sights and sounds of battle overwhelmed her, as she stood there alone.

_Oh my god, oh my god…_

She needed to find him. Why couldn't she find him? The pandemonium that filled the Entrance Hall was like a fog of violence through which she couldn't even see a hint of his distinctive features. A sense of dread filled her, but Hermione refused to let it take over.

And so she began to search for him.

…

…

…

Draco froze numbly at the foot of the grand staircase. His wand was hanging uselessly by his side as his heart filled with terror.

Lucius Malfoy stood before him.

He looked demonic, like an avenging demon come to wipe him from the face of the earth. Draco didn't dare look around for help for fear that he might miss the split second killing curse flying towards him from the tip of his father's wand. He had somehow lost Hermione in the melee of battle when the hall had filled with acromantula. And everyone else was occupied with their own duels and skirmishes. It didn't matter anyway. Lucius's entire focus was on him. It was clear that Voldemort wouldn't even get the chance to try and kill him for ownership of the elder wand if the Malfoy patriarch had anything to say about it. He was lost to his rage and blind to any other concerns. He was a father who had stepped out here, secure in the thought that he would kill his only son.

Draco shivered, gripping his wand tighter as he tried to ignore the dry, sick feeling in his throat that made him want to retch.

"You don't have to do this," Draco told him in a shaky voice, "Just walk away."

Lucius spat on the ground between them.

"You treacherous little shit," the older wizard declared coldly, "Nobody will speak your name after this moment. You are _no_ Malfoy."

"Good," Draco snapped back, "I hate the name and everything it stands for."

Without warning, Lucius slashed his wand down abruptly, sending a curse directly towards him. Draco ducked, his heart skipping. If it had hit him it would have been fatal. Clearly Lucius meant business. His pulse raced with adrenalin and fear. Rationally he knew that Lucius was a better duellist than him. Especially now that his own wand's loyalties had drifted somewhat. All around them, there was still a continuous hive of chaotic activity. Somebody jostled into Draco's back as he dodged the next curse and then the next.

He fired stunning spells back. If he could just disarm or knock him out then he'd be satisfied. Though he wouldn't deny that maiming or disfiguring Lucius in some way wouldn't exactly make him lose any sleep either. It was hard to repress the bitter anger that coursed through him. And he really needed to find Hermione again. She'd become lost in a swarm of gigantic spiders and screaming voices as the battle had swelled and changed around them.

But Lucius was fighting to kill. He was brutal in his attacks, and Draco found himself acting purely defensively, merely blocking spells and dodging. He didn't really have time to return many curses. Lucius didn't even allow him time to breathe. He was relentless.

Draco could see what was coming before it even happened. His heart was filled with a sense of dull anticipation as two curses came flying at him close together. He darted away from the first, but right into the path of the second. In a rush of heat and fire he was thrown off his feet, slamming back against the stone floor behind him. The air was stolen from his lungs in a rush and he gasped.

With a feeling of helplessness, Draco watched his father raise his wand once more, fatalistically. He struggled to breath as the green tinge of the killing curse lit up the dusty air between them.

But it never reached its target.

Draco gulped in air, staring in shock as he noticed a figure lunge forwards and deflect the curse with a shield made from floating rubble. The rock crashed to the ground with a boom as the newcomer began to hurl curses back at the elder Malfoy.

Draco coughed, struggling to sit up as spots appeared in his vision. As he blinked them away, he drank in the appearance of the person who had just saved his life. It was Aberforth.

"Ye've tortured the boy enough already, Malfoy scum!"

His chest ached from lack of air as he watched Aberforth start battling with Lucius. He looked like some kind of ferocious protector as he slowly weakened the other man. Lucius stumbled back a few steps as one or two spells found purchase, slicing down his alabaster cheek and breaking his leg with a hideous crack.

Aberforth was winning.

Draco dragged himself up onto his knees. He reached for his wand, which had clattered away about a metre or so. And all the while he kept his eyes on the sight of the grumpy old barkeep defending him like a prowling lion over his cub. His heart thudded, knees weak as he attempted to stand, trying to get a stronger grip on his wand.

"Ab…Aberf…"

Every time he tried to speak it came out hoarse. His chest was burning. But the fight before him unfolded like an almost horrific slow motion nightmare.

Aberforth now had Lucius almost cowering before him. The Malfoy man's expression was fearful, like a desperate animal backed into a corner. There was blood dripping from his nostrils and, after another sharp hex from the older wizard, he could barely hold his wand up.

But Lucius wasn't going to be bested without one final, terrible victory. A sadistic, demented grin formed on his face through a torrent of blood as he spied something on the ground nearby.

With an abrupt flick of his wand, a pointed shard of glass flew through the air like a bullet, streaking across the haze of dust and finding its mark.

"NOOOO!" Draco yelled in horror as the sharp fragment buried itself deep into Aberforth's chest. There was an eerily still moment in which the old wizard sucked in a long breath, but it was cut short by the shock of blood that gargled up from his lungs.

_No…oh Merlin no…_

Draco managed to haul himself forwards, staggering on shaking legs towards the barkeep. He didn't quite make it in time to catch him as he fell. But he managed to get close enough to the older wizard to let him slump down across his knees, cradling his head so that it didn't hit the hard floor beneath them.

"Aberforth!" he mumbled urgently, his eyes darting wildly across the man's chest. The glass window piece had been fashioned by total accident into an almost perfect deadly weapon. Right in front of his eyes he saw the other man turn pale, the blood draining from his face even as his lips tinged red from blood frothing up into his mouth. Draco gripped him tight.

"No, no, no… come on old man. Stay with me."

But Aberforth's eyes were blurring and drifting languidly over the ceiling above them as though he were very tired after a long day. He tried to speak in a broken, spluttering voice.

"Yer a…a good kid…ye…ye don't…"

His chest heaved a few times in small, helpless convulsions and he lost the ability to speak as his eyes roved back into his head.

"Don't you dare, you stupid son of a bitch! Look at me!"

But the tension in the older man's body was rapidly leaving as he sunk heavily against him. It happened too quickly. One moment he was struggling to suck in air and then the next he was relaxed and his eyes were sightless and Draco knew that he was dead.

"You bloody bastard!" he wailed, shaking the man's shoulders, not even realising that he was crying until he felt a tear drop from the tip of his nose and onto Aberforth's inert face. With a sob he released the other man, letting him slide onto the floor as he stood up. His legs were aching from his earlier fall and he was gripping his wand so tightly a distant voice in his mind warned him he might break it in half.

Draco's whole body was trembling with unbridled rage. Turning, he faced the pathetic, snivelling coward who sat back panting and dazed on the floor nearby. The very person who had been taken down by the brave man who now lay dead at Draco's feet. He quivered with fury as he raised his wand, feeling no shred of emotion or loyalty to the man who had given him life. How fitting that he would now be the one to end Lucius's pitiful existence.

_You have to mean it, _the Dark Lord had once taunted him when he had proven to be too weak to hurt somebody, a memory that he had buried deep in his murky past.

Well he meant it now with every fibre of his being. He wanted Lucius gone. He never wanted to see him or think of him again. This was the man who had twisted his life into something horrible. Who had tortured Hermione. And then he thought of Aberforth… _oh god…poor, brave Aberforth…_

"_Avada Kedavra,_" he hissed, the curse leaving his lips with a strangled gasp as the dark power rushed through him. It was sickening and potent and evil. Like a wave of swamp water scraping across his nerves in a rush of coarse, unadulterated power.

It was terrible.

The curse hit its mark, and Lucius collapsed to the ground in a crumpled heap, limbs bent askew at an odd angle. His grey eyes were somehow even colder now in death. Draco shuddered and cried out in agony. Whether it was the insidious knowledge that he had just murdered his own father, or whether it was for poor Aberforth, Draco wasn't sure. Probably a painful mix of the two. He dropped to his knees next to the body of the old barkeep, retching and heaving as he gasped for air. More than one person nearby turned to stare at him in concern, but nobody seemed to want to approach him as his demented form hunched over and sobbed.

And then suddenly he wasn't alone anymore.

A crack sounded next to him and he heard a squeaky voice call out '_Master Draco!_' alongside a softer voice crying '_Draco!_' before he was enveloped in a pair of soft, comforting arms. It took him a moment to register what was happening. He felt like the world was spinning around him. But then it hit him. Dobby had appeared beside him with his distinctive snap of magic, bringing Hermione along with him, right here to his side.

"It's okay," she murmured mournfully into his neck as she held him tight, both of them kneeling together next to Aberforth's body, "It's alright. I'm here, I found you!"

Draco allowed himself to slump against her, accepting the touch that had brought him back to life in more ways than one all those weeks ago.

"I was…he killed him…and then I…"

He couldn't quite get the words out, leaning back to stare masochistically at the misshapen body of his father lying a couple of metres away. Hermione followed his haunted gaze and drew in a sharp breath as she recognised the familiar head of blond hair nearby, tinted slightly red with blood.

"Oh Draco!"

She pulled him closer, the battle growing dimmer around them as one by one the death eaters fell. But they just held onto each other fiercely. Draco cried numbly into Hermione's neck, his brain going numb with shock and grief. When he peered out from behind Hermione's soot encrusted curls he saw Dobby standing beside the body of the old barkeep. The elf was staring down dolefully at the man's peaceful face, his big milky eyes swimming with sadness.

"A kind wizard," Dobby murmured, reaching out with his long bony fingers to close the man's eyes. Draco shivered, trying to control his breathing as he felt Hermione's own tears dampening his shoulder.

They both looked up, blinking in surprise at how the hall had thinned out, as slowly the Death Eaters were dispatched one after the other.

_How…?_

And then he noticed something so unexpected that his mouth actually dropped open. In addition to Dobby, it seemed as though every house elf in the castle had stormed out to defend its students. He knew how powerful their magic really was, and when that magic was turned against wizards… well, the death eaters stood no chance really. Not when combined with the overwhelming force of the centaurs and the scattered number of aurors and friends of Order members who had arrived, drawn to help by the call of finally being able to fight the tide of evil openly.

And in the midst of all this, the shockingly alive and poised figure of Harry Potter stood duelling with the Dark Lord in the middle of the hall, Severus Snape standing tall and proud by his side.

"_Harry!_" the witch next to him cried in relief, releasing a tired little sob of happiness against his shoulder.

And Draco too slackened against her side, exhausted and emotionally wrought. It was almost over, he thought as he looked around the hall. He couldn't bear to let his eyes drift down again to the body of the old barkeep nearby, nor see the pool of blood slowly spreading beneath him. There would be time for grief later. Now he just wanted Potter to end this once and for all.

Then maybe Aberforth wouldn't have died in vain.

And maybe he would finally get some peace.

…

…

…

**I'm sorry… don't hate me. It is a battle after all! And I saved a few of the others, so a price needed to be paid to balance it out. How would you like things to wrap up? I have some interesting ideas… :) please review.**


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Okay, readers! Firstly I know this update is super late. I've been consistent throughout with my posting but then for some reason life just got in the way the last fortnight. Apologies.**

**Secondly, this is in fact the final chapter. So I hope it leaves you nice and satisfied! **

**As always, JKR is the one to whom we owe our inspiration.**

**Thank you and enjoy!**

…

…

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**…**

Hermione sat with her chin resting indolently on one hand at the bottom of the great staircase. She was exhausted. The battle had gone all through the night and into the morning, but even Harry's glorious victory hadn't offered any physical relief for the weary fighters. Even amidst the buoyant burst of happiness that filled the castle, there was still the issue of those who had died in the fight. They needed to get straight to work and move the bodies, as well as organise the left over Death Eaters who had surrendered to them. Nobody could move on until they had paid respect to those who had sacrificed their lives in the battle.

But now Hermione felt ready to drop off to sleep even as she just rested her eyes for a moment. The house elves had been a huge help, moving the dead into the Great Hall and laying them out with honour until representatives from the Ministry arrived to process them. But Hermione had cried too many tears and her eyes were still stinging, her jaw still aching and her features were gaunt.

Once they had laid Aberforth to rest properly, Draco had wandered off with Snape somewhere. The two of them had needed to identify the death eaters who surrendered and now they were deep in discussion about something, having joined up with Harry a little while ago. The unlikely combination of the two infamous Slytherins chatting easily with the Chosen One had drawn a lot of attention from the few aurors and Ministry workers who had arrived. Clearly someone would have to explain what had happened properly in due course. Shortly after Harry had repaired his old wand up in Dumbledore's office, he had filled them in on a few details they'd missed. Mostly how Snape had continued to play a crucial role in fooling Voldemort right to the end, declaring that Harry was dead and allowing him to sneak back to the castle without suspicion. Both Slytherins had more than proved themselves worthy of honour in the battle. It seemed as though Colin Creevey had found a new person to idolize in Draco, and people seemed to keep whispering in hushed, awed voices when Snape passed by. Or at least they had been. Now many had started to go home, to lick their wounds and recuperate.

Hermione sighed, wishing that _she_ could go home…

But where was home now?

Her parents still had their memories wiped and were living overseas in anonymity. The Weasleys had all accompanied Fred to St Mungos to watch over him together, so the Burrow wasn't an option. Not that she particularly wanted to be surrounded by people right now, and that tended to be a very full house. And she'd rather sleep right here on the rubble-strewn floor than go back to that damn tent again. She supposed she didn't really have a home now.

Her maudlin thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Harry and Draco.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked, moving to sit next to her and running one hand gently across her back.

"Yeh, I'm fine," she replied drowsily, "just ready to sleep for about forty hours."

"That sounds perfect right now," he agreed with a tired grin of his own.

"Did Snape leave?" she asked, looking around for any sign of the dark wizard.

"Yeh," Harry told her, shuffling awkwardly in front of them as Draco moved to wrap his arm around her shoulders, "he said he doesn't want to set foot in this castle again for another fifty years."

Hermione chuckled weakly. She leaned into the blond Slytherin at her side, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I don't blame him. Did you find your mother?" she asked Draco, peering up to look into his chilly grey eyes. He looked pretty damn exhausted too. They all did.

Draco's face immediately shuttered down and his expression crumpled. She responded quickly, leaning into him and grasping his hand in hers. Harry lowered his head, his cheeks flushing sheepishly, probably not comfortable intruding on their private moment.

"She…she…" Draco's voice trailed off and he sighed, rubbing his other hand over his face.

"Oh my god. She didn't-" Hermione's eyes shot up to Harry's in alarm, wondering if the woman had been killed in the final battle. The brown haired boy shook his head hurriedly. He knew what she was trying to ask.

"No, she's alive," Harry reassured her. Beside her, Draco let out a long breath to gather his nerves and finally worked up the strength to explain.

"The aurors are processing her now. She was arrested. They'll probably take her to Azkaban."

"Did you talk to her?" she asked anxiously, fearing for Draco's peace of mind. She could tell he was miserable about it already.

"Yeh I did," he mumbled, running his fingers through his hair, "I told her what happened to Lucius. She freaked out. Slapped me right across the face."

He gestured to the cheek on his other side, turning it slightly towards her. Only then was she able to notice the pink tinge to his skin.

"Oh Draco-" she sighed sadly, wishing that it hadn't come to this.

"I was going to try and reason with her, make her see sense. She was never a devout follower of V…Vo…Voldemort," he managed to stumble his way through the name now that it was no longer taboo and the man himself was finally dead, "I thought maybe she'd be…I dunno… be glad that I was alive, I suppose. That Lucius didn't kill me," he finished glumly. Hermione's hand tightened on his.

"The aurors stepped in to restrain her when she struck him," Harry finished, taking over when Draco became too emotional, "so that put an end to any conversation unfortunately."

Hermione frowned, watching as the blond boy next to her hung his head. She knew he was struggling with the guilt of what he'd done to his father. But he was also free now, and it shone through him like daylight. She wanted to reassure him but wasn't sure how.

"Oy Harry!"

Their chat was interrupted by the excited voice of Neville Longbottom, waving madly at the Chosen One from across the hall. He was probably the only person left in the castle who still seemed to be buzzing with energy. He'd been invaluable during the clean up. Sometime in the last year the once socially clumsy boy had blossomed into a true leader.

"Coming, mate!"

Harry gave them a small grimace of apology. But before he turned to head in Neville's direction, he paused.

"You know… you two should really get out of here. Start recovering."

"Are you sure, Harry? You'll be alright?" she asked worriedly, cocking her head to the side and observing her friend closely. When had he grown up so much?

"Yeh. There's nothing more to do here and I'm gonna head to the Burrow to see Ginny once the Weasleys are done at St Mungos. Seriously. Go home."

She nodded, rising to her feet with a watery smile. Her and Harry met in the middle as she launched herself at him, pulling each other into a tight hug. They held on for a long time, expressing everything that couldn't be said with words. After a long time, she released him and he stepped back. He looked upset, and held onto her hand a moment longer.

"Thank you," he whispered under his breath, "For everything. I love you."

"And I love you," she croaked, watching him turn slowly and walk away. Then she sunk back down on the step next to Draco. He looked sideways at her, one eyebrow raised.

"You two are close," he commented, but there was no real sting to his voice. It was possible that he was too tired to be properly jealous right now. That was definitely a topic for another day.

"We are. And he's right. We should go home."

Draco was silent for a long time.

"Where is home?" he asked slowly after a while. Hermione frowned.

"I'm not sure. Unless…"

A strange thought occurred to her and she smiled.

"What?" he prompted.

"Well, we could go sleep in our attic room. Just for tonight. It's nearby. And I'm not prepared for a long apparition right now."

Draco blinked, his eyebrows drawing together as he considered this.

"But… Aberforth-"

"Would be the first person to bully us into getting some rest! I don't think he'd mind, do you?"

"No I guess not," he mused thoughtfully. They both knew the grumpy old wizard would undoubtedly welcome them into his pub. He'd probably be the biggest and most sullen advocate for them to get some sleep before they fell flat on their tired faces. Draco smiled softly as he came to the same conclusion as her.

"I think I'd like that. To spend one more night living under the old man's watchful gaze."

She nodded, reaching over to take his hand. He grasped it back tightly. Together they stood and looked out on the scene of destruction before them that used to be the grand entrance hall. Then Draco turned to her, lifting her chin up and giving her a tender kiss.

"And what about tomorrow?" he asked softly as their lips brushed.

Hermione grinned.

"Tomorrow we do whatever we like," she told him.

And that was the truth of it. They were both free now to build whatever future they wanted. And it looked brighter than ever.

…

…

…

**Epilogue**

**…**

**5 years later**

Draco dragged his feet as he climbed the steps towards the front door of the townhouse in London where he lived with Hermione. He sighed with relief as he saw the flickering of light inside which signalled that she was already home. He needed her tonight, and the sight of the orange glow of the fireplace in the front room filled him with warmth. They'd bought the beautiful brick building a couple of years ago and it had swiftly become a sanctuary for them; somewhere safe from the wizarding world where they could just be together and be a family. They'd overcome a lot the last few years and they both relished the private haven they'd created together where they could unwind in peace.

The Daily Prophet had almost had a riot when they first printed the story that the muggleborn princess of Gryffindor was romantically connected to a former Death Eater and the heir of Lucius Malfoy's pureblood empire. Rita Skeeter in particular had been brutal at first, before she suddenly stopped writing malicious stories about them after Hermione had approached her office one day for a private chat. Clearly something had been said to change the woman's mind, and Hermione had come home looking rather smug that day. Draco didn't doubt that she had directly manipulated the bitch. His Gryffindor witch was like a little hellcat when she wanted to get her way.

As he tapped his wand on the front door to enter through their wards, Draco drew in a deep breath and tried to push away his jumbled thoughts and memories. It had been an incredibly difficult day, and all he wanted was to collapse somewhere warm and put his arms around the woman he loved.

As he entered the home, he noticed that there was a soft carol playing in the background, something slow and sweet. With a frown of confusion he shrugged off his winter coat and approached the living room. The house was furnished expensively, but still held a sort of cosy charm that was all due to Hermione's efforts. It had taken a long time for her to accept that he was wealthy. His father hadn't yet removed him from the family trust before that final battle (probably hoping that Draco would die a horrible death instead) so he'd been left almost the entire inheritance. Aside from a sizable portion of the Black family assets that had remained with Narcissa. And for the first couple of years, Hermione had felt almost uncomfortable with him spending money on them both or accepting extravagant gifts. She still was a bit awkward about it at times. But it was becoming more natural for her, especially since they had moved into the townhouse. She'd rejected all his normal luxuries and the opulent design, of course, but had quickly established a more simple, sophisticated charm, with all the quirks one would expect of the cosy home of two rather brainy nerds. In fact, as he entered the living room his eyes were drawn fondly to the enormous sprawl of bookshelves lining the walls, perfectly categorised of course. It gave the whole place a homely feeling, he thought.

But then he noticed something new. Strung up in festive colours around the room were beautiful Christmas garlands. Some gold charms dangled down from the chandelier and there was a pine tree propped up regally in one corner near the fireplace. It was unadorned with Hermione's usual baubles, but he knew she liked to wait for his help each year.

Draco drank it in, feeling the weight already lifting from his shoulders after his emotionally draining day.

"Hermione?" he called curiously, not seeing her in the room despite the merrily crackling fire.

"_Oh_!"

He heard her exclaim from the other room before her head popped around the corner of the doorframe. There was a streak of flour on one cheek and her hair was tied back in a messy bun. She'd obviously been baking. He liked to tease her about her "Christmas Frenzy," as he'd coined it, each year. She went truly mad over the holiday season, but he hadn't realised it was already December. She always went into her frenzy on the first of the month.

"You're home!" she cried happily, dusting off her hands before leaping into the room to throw her arms around him. Draco held her to him firmly, pulling her in close and breathing in the smell of her hair as he clung to her. After an awkwardly long time had passed, Hermione cleared her throat and tilted her head back to look at him with curious eyes.

"You're sad," she declared, her expression screwed up in concern. It wasn't even a question. She knew his moods too well by now. Draco reluctantly nodded. He allowed her to tug him over to the couch where they sat side by side.

"What happened? What did she say to you?" Hermione asked him gently, her lovely brown eyes drawing him in and letting him just breathe properly for the first time all day. And yet, even though they were right next to each other, he wanted to be closer to her. His body was craving hers.

"I…I need you," he murmured self-consciously, his cheeks flushing as he reached out a trembling hand towards her. But Hermione just nodded with a loving smile, immediately moving to embrace him. With a nimble grace he admired, she slid up to perch on her knees and then moved onto his lap. She was straddling him, but not in a sexual way, just wrapping herself around him as their foreheads pressed together. He took a few deep breaths, brushing aside his embarrassment and just revelling in the intimacy of the position. It had been years since they'd started their relationship, but it still got to him sometimes. The hunger for human contact. He still suffered from a desperate need to be held and touched. After a bad day, Hermione would stroke his skin like she used to, or sometimes they would entwine their bodies like this in a picture of comfort. It felt right. As though he could absorb her soul into his own and heal himself with her goodness.

What was truly strange to get used to was the reality that his life was different now. He touched people regularly these days. Potter shook his hand frequently, or clapped him on the back. Ginny kissed his cheek in greeting. And Hermione's mother positively suffocated him sometimes with her affectionate hugs and gestures. The two muggle dentists had returned from overseas with their memories restored about a year after the war. Severus had been an enormous help to Hermione in teaching her how to reverse her memory modification charms. He'd also assisted in explaining the whole sorry history to the Grangers after they'd come back. The dour older wizard had left them in no doubt about the very real dangers they would have faced without Hermione's intervention. He'd probably scared them half to death.

At first her parents hadn't been exactly thrilled with their very young daughter moving in with a boy from school before she'd even technically graduated, one who'd bullied her ruthlessly for years, no less. They had worried that she was too young, and they weren't sure what to think of him either, not after finding out who exactly he was from her days at Hogwarts. But over time the young couple had proven themselves. They had stood strong and united, and it was painfully clear to the Grangers soon just how much he _adored_ their only daughter. After a brief, award phase he was welcomed with open arms. The first Christmas he'd spent at their table, eating their food and opening truly thoughtful gifts as they laughed and told lame muggle jokes off slips of paper had been one of the happiest times of his life. The fact that these two muggles could show him so much love after only knowing him a few months compared to his own parents and his entire miserable life before that… well, it certainly succeeded in melting away any last vestiges of doubt or prejudice that had been instilled into him as a child.

With a long sigh, Draco reached up to tangle one hand in Hermione's hair just underneath her messy bun. He used the grip to gently tug her head back and kiss her once, softly, on the lips.

"Draco, talk to me," she murmured, her brown eyes blinking slowly in concern as she observed him. He reached between them and grasped her hand, fiddling distractedly with the ring that glittered there.

"Mother is…doing fine," he told her, reflecting anxiously on his visit to the manor that day, "she's managed to settle in more than the last time I was there."

Draco closed his eyes and shivered as he thought of how it had felt to be back in that house again. It had brought back a lot of memories, both of his depressing childhood and the more horrific trauma from when Voldemort took up residence there.

It had stood empty for several years, but earlier in the summer Narcissa had finally been released from Azkaban, having served a short sentence in response to her role as a follower of Tom Riddle. She had been treated lightly compared to others. She'd never taken the dark mark, and her involvement had been more passive than the full-blown death eaters.

The first time Draco had gone to visit her had been…odd. They'd been clearly uncomfortable around each other, and hardly a word had been spoken beyond pleasantries and clumsy questions about her well-being. It was like she was pretending that nothing had happened. Draco had left feeling like he didn't really belong there, which was true he supposed. She hardly inspired feelings of filial affection with her cold manner.

This second time, however, had been significantly more troubling. With a long exhale he gripped Hermione's hand tighter, gazing down at the elegant diamond ring that adorned her finger and letting it give him courage.

"She was…well… let's just say the news of our engagement wasn't as well received by her as it was by _your _parents."

"That bad, huh?" Hermione asked him. He saw that she tried not to appear too bothered by the knowledge that this kind of pureblood prejudice still existed, but he could tell she was disappointed.

"I tried to tell her that those kinds of views were not _appropriate _anymore, not since the war ended. But she just insisted this was a 'phase' and I'd get over it soon enough. As if being with a muggleborn is something I just need to get out of my system…"

Hermione visibly cringed.

"Really?"

"Yeh, she told me I should be… ashamed… to bring a girl like you into the family."

He swallowed and tightened his grip on her hand.

"Draco," she began, her voice soft and mournful, "I'm so sorry-"

"_Don't_," he insisted, "please don't apologise. I'm the one who should be sorry. Her opinion doesn't mean anything to me, I hope you know that. And if my mother has a problem with it then she won't be a part of our life, and that's a promise!"

"She's your mother-" Hermione began.

"No," he interrupted, correcting her, "she's the woman who gave birth to me. A real mother wouldn't… be so callous. Or treat me the way she has done all these years. You must know that _Jean_ is more of a mother to me now than Narcissa ever was."

Hermione nodded slowly, waiting patiently for him to continue as though sensing he wasn't done yet.

"That was only the start of it, though. Before I could even deal with _that _particular issue, she decided to bring up Lucius."

"Oh no…" Hermione groaned quietly.

"Oh yes," he confirmed dryly, her jaw clenching with tension at the memory of what she'd said, "apparently she's been struggling to understand why I… why I…killed him."

He felt Hermione inch closer, pressing herself more firmly against him in sympathy. He continued,

"She seemed to think that I hadn't given him a chance. That I was the one who had torn our family apart. _My _betrayal. _My _anger. She couldn't figure out why it had to end the way it did. She told me I was a stain on the family's honour."

"I can't believe it," Hermione whispered, shaking her head and looking positively outraged. Draco could only nod glumly in agreement.

"Neither can I. I tried to reason with her. I tried to make her see that _he _was the one who had ruined us. But it was no good. I had to get out of there."

"Oh Draco…"

"Needless to say I won't be visiting for a while," he sighed and leaned back, running the back of his fingers down over Hermione's cheek.

"That's terrible," she told him, blinking back tears, "I knew something was wrong. Her letter was so…stilted and formal."

He nodded and they both fell into a melancholy silence, wrapped tight in each other's arms. The carol playing from the nearby speakers wound to a close and a new, more upbeat one began to play. Somewhere in the background he could hear the clang of trays and knew Dobby was retrieving the freshly baked gingerbread from the oven, which Hermione had clearly forgotten about in her desire to comfort him. He smiled tightly, glad that the elf was finally getting to enjoy a happy home. Dobby still insisted on being paid a fairly paltry salary despite their attempts to negotiate a higher rate. But still…he belonged here with them. And Hermione always found ways to trick him into accepting bonuses and paid leave time off work.

"Don't forget, Severus is coming for dinner tonight," Hermione told him eventually, her voice muffled against his shirt collar.

Draco chuckled, his mood lifting a little bit more with every moment he spent in her arms.

"You and Severus are a scary combination," he told her lightly, running his fingers down her back and up again along the stretch of her neck.

"Really?" she asked with a laugh.

"I don't know of any other people who can talk so intently about complicated potions for so long."

"He's a knowledgeable man," she admitted with a smirk, "and slightly less of a bastard than he used to be."

"Oh he's still a massive bastard! But I think he's rather fond of you, actually," Draco told her, as though he were sharing a big secret.

And it was true too he thought. Severus often spent nights at their place, having dinners and catching up over a game of chess. He was still as snarky as always, but now that the war had ended and he was no longer obligated to play the role of the spy, he seemed to genuinely want to seek out their company. Maybe he was just as alone as Draco had been all those years ago. And once Hermione and Severus had become more comfortable in each other's presence, they had struck up a very cordial acquaintance. It was nice, he thought. And he couldn't wait to tell the older wizard about their engagement. He knew Snape would be happy for them, in his own way.

Potter and Ginny had been thrilled. His former nemesis was now a regular at their house. They had weekly dinners together, sometimes combining with Weasley and his most recent flame as well, or sometimes just the four of them. Although he couldn't quite warm to Weasley as much, he and Potter got on surprisingly well. The two still bickered and squabbled constantly, but now there was an almost affectionate edge to it. It was more teasing and less hurtful. He supposed the boy-who-lived wasn't so bad, after all, he begrudgingly admitted. He was like a brother to Hermione. In fact, Draco thought he might even make him a groomsman at the wedding. Not that they'd set a date yet or really discussed the details.

The two of them sat quietly for a while longer, both of their thoughts occupied as they stroked and caressed each other unconsciously. It wasn't until he noticed Hermione shiver pleasantly under his ministrations that he cleared his throat to speak again. There was something that had been nagging at his mind all week, and he wanted to talk to her about it while they were together like this.

"Hermione?"

"Hmmm?" she sighed contentedly in reply, not really concentrating as she absorbed his touches.

"I was wondering… about when we get married."

"Were you?" she hummed, her voice a bit distant.

"Yes. And I was just… would you mind if… if we…uh…well…"

He stumbled over the words a bit, causing her to lean back, her attention captured now as she blinked curiously at him.

"What's wrong?" she asked him sweetly, running a thumb over the tense line of his jaw.

"Have you given any thought to our… our new _name?_"

Hermione cocked her head to one side.

"You mean Malfoy?"

"Yeh…"

"I haven't really considered it," she told him with a frown. They both knew that the wizarding world was still very much a traditional place, even a little bit antiquated. It was expected that the woman would change her name upon getting married.

"_I've_ been thinking about it. A_ lot_," he told her, "And I've decided that… I don't want us to be Malfoys."

That definitely got her attention. She sat further upright on his lap, and he moved to encircle her waist in his arms as she stared at him.

"What?"

"I don't think you should change your name to Hermione Malfoy."

"But… it's tradition-"

"To hell with tradition," he grumbled, gazing up at her with wide, solemn eyes, "You shouldn't have to take the name of a family that has done nothing but hurt you and look down on you with disdain."

"I can think of _one_ Malfoy who's quite nice…" she told him with a shy smile and he chuckled quietly.

"Yes well… I'm sick of people hearing my name and immediately thinking of my father. Of labelling me as something I'm not and making assumptions about the kind of person I am."

"I'm sure it will pass in time," she reassured him a bit weakly, as though she knew as well as he did that it wasn't true, "and besides, you can try and turn it around, make it a name that means something good."

"But it doesn't," he argued in a pained voice, "not to me. Never to me. I used to want to live up to the Malfoy name so bad, but now it just leaves me feeling sick to my stomach."

Hermione observed him thoughtfully for a long moment, before running a hand tenderly through his blond hair. He shuddered.

"So what do you suggest?" she asked with a puzzled frown.

"Well…" he began, feeling a little nervous as he did, "If it's alright with you, and your parents of course, I was hoping that maybe we could be Mr and Mrs Granger."

Hermione's eyes widened and her mouth parted slightly as she considered this.

"Oh! I mean… I would be fine with that… but Draco, you'd be giving up your family name. I know how important that is in the pureblood community."

"Exactly! Isn't it about time someone shook things up a bit?" he joked, before his expression turned solemn, "But seriously… I'm not being too hasty here. I've thought about it. Not just today, but ever since I spoke to your father last month about us getting engaged. He made some throwaway comment about '_The Malfoys'_ and it just sounded wrong. I want us to be a proper family. I want us to carry on a name that stands for something good."

Hermione smiled gently at him.

"So you want to be Draco Granger?" she asked him with a slight chuckle.

"I really… _really _do," he told her with such genuine feeling in his voice that she actually blinked in shock.

"Well… okay, Draco. If that's what you want, then I'd be more than happy to be the Grangers," she murmured softly, "I never cared about the name anyway. I just want to be with you and I want the world to know that we belong to each other."

Draco launched himself forwards and captured her lips in a passionate kiss. She responded instantly, tangling her hands in his blond hair. He tugged her forwards impatiently, grasping her hips and moving her purposefully over the bulge that had been slowly growing against his trousers since the moment she first slipped on top of him.

When they both needed to part to catch their breath, Draco dropped his head to press kisses down her neck. She tasted like flour and cinnamon and he smiled against her racing pulse.

"We should stop," she panted, though that didn't prevent her from squirming in a frustratingly arousing way on top of him, "Severus will be here soon."  
"What time is he getting here?" he asked as he let his kisses drift even lower to the collar of her jumper.

'Unngrgh…" she moaned distractedly, checking her watch over his shoulder, "about half an hour."

Draco smirked.

"Plenty of time," he declared, before standing up suddenly, his grip around Hermione's waist tightening as he carried her in the direction of the bedroom.

As he paused halfway down the corridor to press her into the wall, Draco felt a wave of happiness spread through him. He hadn't thought it was possible to feel such uninhabited delight, especially not so soon after leaving the debacle that had been his trip to the manor. But this was what Hermione did to him. She gave him hope and love and everything else he hadn't known he'd been missing until she literally fell into his life.

He thought of the Christmas present waiting patiently at Professor McGonagall's place, which he'd already prepared for Hermione even though December 25th was still more than three weeks away. The new Headmistress had gladly accepted the task he'd requested a few days ago of finding an intelligent familiar he could gift his fiancée with for Christmas. The half-kneazle kitten was a patchwork of white and black fur and, at only two months old, was ready to imprint onto its first human.

Thinking of how happy she would be when he surprised her on Christmas day, Draco laughed and stumbled along the corridor to their bedroom, kissing every inch of skin he could reach as he paused under a few scattered sprigs of mistletoe.

Hermione had given him everything, he realised, although it certainly wasn't the first time he'd thought this.

And now it was his turn.

He vowed to himself that he would spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

Starting now.

…

…

…

**Okay so I went pretty fluffy there for the ending. It felt right. And that's it! That's the end of the story.**

**Thank you for coming along for the ride. I hope you enjoyed it. Would love to hear your thoughts and whether you liked it.**

**Until we meet again…**


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